


Love in the Time of Appendicitis

by DoubleL27



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Appendicitis, Caretaking, David Rose is a Competent Human Being, David Rose is a Good Person, Established Relationship, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nausea, Sickfic, Surgery, sick patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27
Summary: David meant to ask if something was wrong but what came out of his mouth instead was, “Umm, you look dreadful.”“Thanks, David.”“Is there a catastrophe with the spreadsheet or—?” David trailed off, waiting for Patrick to respond.“David, I just don’t feel well,” Patrick finally answered, his voice thin and drawn. “I am alright.”His pursed lips turned into a deep frown as he pushed off the door jamb and moved closer to Patrick. His voice had taken on a distinctly bitchy tone as he pointed out, “Umm, not feeling well and being alright are too very different things.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 251
Kudos: 644





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So many thank yous to put out. Firstly, to the entire crew at The Rosebudd for encouraging me to take an idea that had been languishing since October and turn it into this behemoth, promising me that everyone can always use another sick fic. Particular thanks MissG for sticking out grabby hands so I could never forget to work on this.
> 
> To my amazing beta team of this_is_not_nothing and Rhetorical Questions, bless you both. This would have been dumped into a rubbish bin while I stared at it without you both. You make me a better writer every time I send something to you, so thank you. And TINN with the title win, yet again. It's a gift friend, and I thank you for every bit of it.
> 
> About the story: This is a Multi-Chapter H/C that will span six chapters, tags for new characters will be introduced as we go, rating is subject to change. All the chapters are written and I'm looking at a daily/every other posting schedule depending on final revisions. Enjoy.

David finished wrapping the burlap bow on a gift basket of bath supplies. He handed them off to Sheila, for her pregnant wife, and sent her off with a tight smile. He glanced around the empty shop as the late morning light slanted in through the plate glass windows of the store. Everything still looked neat after the few customers they had since they opened that morning, had left. Patrick had slipped through the curtain shortly after opening and had yet to make a reappearance. Typically, Patrick would drag paperwork out to the floor rather than hide in the back all morning. 

David gave the floor one last look before dipping behind the curtain and back to their tiny office. Patrick sat at the desk, staring at the monitor, his left arm curled around his waist as he used his right to click through whatever spreadsheet he was on. Patrick was looking extra slouchy in his seat, almost hunched over. David narrowed his eyes, more concerned about Patrick’s health than his own wrinkles, as he watched his fiancé work. 

Patrick looked pale and drawn. Usually, if left alone with his spreadsheets, Patrick was content, smiling and singing to himself. Right now he was frowning at the screen, his brow low and wrinkled. It wasn’t normal. 

David meant to ask if something was wrong but what came out of his mouth instead was, “Umm, you look dreadful.”

“Thanks, David.”

“Is there a catastrophe with the spreadsheet or—?” David trailed off, waiting for Patrick to respond. 

“David, I just don’t feel well,” Patrick finally answered, his voice thin and drawn. “I am alright.”

His pursed lips turned into a deep frown as he pushed off the door jamb and moved closer to Patrick. His voice had taken on a distinctly bitchy tone as he pointed out, “Umm, not feeling well and being alright are too very different things.”

“It’s just a stomachache, David.”

“ _ Just _ a stomach ache?” David asked, and he heard the high pitched, incredulousness of his voice.

Patrick frowned reflexively and David didn’t like it. “I feel a little off too, I guess.”

“Do you think it was last night’s sushi?” David knew that Schitt’s Creek and its environs weren't going to have the same quality sushi as New York but the cravings were hard to avoid. “We probably shouldn’t order from there anymore.”

Patrick gave a non-committal noise and a vague shoulder shrug. 

David snuck the back of his hand against Patrick’s forehead and it didn’t feel too warm before running his hand over Patrick’s close cropped hair. “I’m just saying that you should probably go home. No one wants a sick proprietor getting their germs all over the product.”

Patrick’s fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose in a classic pose of annoyance. “David, I am trying to get the database up-to-date. I’m not even on the floor.”

David pursed his lips until he was certain they were white. Patrick was staring stubbornly at the screen, his arm still banded about his stomach, not actually typing in the silence. “Fine. We will re-evaluate at lunch.”

David turned on his heel and stalked back to the floor, determined to find something that required fixing or alphabetizing or dusting. Right now he would even fucking mop the floor rather than fight with his fiancé over whether or not he was actually sick. David made himself take a breath in as he surveyed the shop again. Patrick was probably right, it was probably just a small stomach ache and not a big deal. 

Heading off to reorganize the housewares, David was left with a frisson of worry that Patrick was playing it off far too lightly. 

David puttered around the store for the next 45 minutes, selling foot cream to Roland, after a very disgusting conversation he didn’t need, and Gwen coming in for her monthly pick up of flavored body oils and lube. He then set up the body milk and put out new lip balms in their correct place. 

When he went back to check on Patrick, his husband-to-be looked exactly the same as he had when David had last seen him. He hadn’t even moved from the position he had been in. If anything he looked slightly more pained. 

“I can see you’re feeling  _ much better _ ,” David drawled, unable to keep the pointed sarcasm out of his mouth. 

Patrick looked up at him with pitiful hazel eyes and David felt his annoyance dissipate. A flicker of discomfort crossed Patrick’s face. “You’re right. It was probably the sushi. Or lunch from the Café.”

David’s frown deepened as he rubbed his hand down Patrick’s back. “I don’t understand why you don’t feel well and I am fine.”

“I don’t know, David.”

“Well,” David said, plucking at Patrick’s arm until he moved to stand. “We are going to take you home and put you to bed.”

“David,” Patrick began, and David knew it would lead to his futile speech about being fine and not needing to go home. 

David carefully wrapped his arm around Patrick’s shoulders and began leading his fiancé through the doorway and around the cashwrap. Patrick sagged into David’s side in a move that signaled all kinds of red flags. Normally, Patrick would press his body against David’s any chance he got, but with a lot more purpose. This version of Patrick was almost boneless. David didn’t like it. 

David pressed a kiss to Patrick’s head before navigating them both out the front door, flipping the sign to closed as he went by. “You don’t feel well, and it will be no use to have you passing on whatever this is,” waving his other arm in Patrick’s direction, “to customers.”

David untangled himself from Patrick to lock up and frowned at the way Patrick leaned against the closed door heavily. 

“If it’s something I ate,” Patrick grumbled at him, “it’s not contagious.”

“Still not good for business.” David pressed a chaste kiss to Patrick’s lips, which were suspiciously warm and dry, and took his hand, leading him towards the car. “Patrick, you’ll feel better if you’re somewhere you can be comfortable. I will worry less; you don’t look good.”

Patrick gave him a wan smile. He went to move to the drivers side door of the car but David stepped in front of him. Patrick just blinked. “What?”

“Keys,” David said, holding out his hand. 

“David, I’m-“

“If you say  _ fine _ , I am going to scream.” David’s words were clipped as he continued, making grabby motions with his hands. “Keys, please and thank you. I have my license; I can get us home.”

Patrick sighed but handed over the keys. David curled his fingers around the keys and watched as Patrick shuffled around to the passenger side door. David slid into the driver’s seat and began repositioning everything to deal with his slightly longer legs and torso. The door beside him opened and Patrick joined him, giving off a little grunt of pain as he got in the car. David frowned, turning the ignition as Patrick clicked his seatbelt wincing a little and leaned back in the passenger seat, looking more tired than someone had any right to look just from getting in the car. 

David pulled out onto Main Street while cataloguing what they had eaten lately. David had polished off two yogurts and leftover pancakes from brunch with his mother the day before for breakfast while Patrick had eaten...toast? Just toast. While Patrick didn’t usually eat as much as David he usually ate something more than that. Maybe he had already been feeling unwell this morning. David tried to cast back further.

Last night, they had eaten sushi from the takeout place David liked in Elmdale. Sushi was probably not the most ideal out in the sticks but they’d never had a problem before. It could have been the Café. Twyla and George were never going to merit a visit from Guy Fieri or come anywhere close to a Trip Advisor recommendation.

David was tempted to ask more questions when he heard something mechanical happen to his left. He glanced over quickly and saw that Patrick, of all people, had taken the seat and put into full recline and lifted his feet to be on the edge of the seat, knees bent and parallel to his body. David had literally never seen Patrick fully recline a seat unless it was for car sex. Never when they drove. 

Well, usually Patrick drove because he was the far superior driver (and David wasn’t ashamed to admit it) but even if and when he let David drive, he usually sat there pressing against pedals that didn’t exist. 

“Does that feel better?” David asked, sliding another look Patrick’s way. 

“Yeah,” Patrick answered but his voice was mostly a grunt. David’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he kept driving. “I think so.”

“Okay. Uh, I am just going to stop on the way to pick up lunch, okay?”

David could take Patrick right home and a part of his brain nagged that he should, but David Rose did not do well on less than three meals a day and snacks.

“Sounds good.”

David had to remind himself to stay focused on the road and not keep sliding glances at Patrick and the entirely unnatural way he was sitting in the car. David swung into the parking lot of the gas station on the way to their place that had a very nice sandwich shop inside, run by Carol and Steve. David got himself a meatball sub and grabbed chips, saltines, several different tummy-friendly drinks. Carol had a chicken soup on that David decided was going to be what he fed Patrick. One slice of toast was not enough food for one person. David made small talk with Carol while she rang and bagged his food.

David pulled the back door open and settled the food on the floor. He wedged the bag with the soup in a corner so it couldn’t tip over while he drove, and then quickly moved to get into the driver’s seat. When he fully opened the front door, he finally got a good look at Patrick, who was still laying on his back, knees drawn up perpendicular but now he was resting his hands on his belly and rocking back and forth slowly like a turtle that had tipped over on his back and couldn’t get up. 

“Umm, what the fuck are you doing?” slipped from David’s lips before he could think better of it. Then he cringed, because it was a fucking insensitive thing to say when someone was sick. 

Patrick did not call him an asshole, which he would be right to do, but instead opened his eyes and blinked at David. “I think it might be gas.” Patrick’s splayed hands floated above his abdomen and pulsed slightly as he explained. “It’s like a lot of pressure, you know, like someone is inflating a balloon in there but my muscles are pressing back. And I feel nauseous with it all happening. I thought if I could get it moving—“

Patrick grimaced slightly and his hands fluttered down to rest on his stomach and he started the slow rock again. David realized he had been frozen, standing with his head inside the door, just staring at Patrick. He scrambled to get in the car, trying to get himself situated as fast as possible. 

“I-I am sorry,” David said as he struggled to be a normal human and put his seatbelt into place. “It just looked fucking weird but I-I shouldn’t have- whatever makes you feel better.”

That was the bottom line. David just wanted Patrick to feel better. Even if he found the methods slightly weird and unsettling because it was nothing like how his Patrick normally was. 

David was rewarded with a small uptick in Patrick’s lips. “It must look weird.”

Still, he kept doing it. 

Fuck, David thought as he turned the key in the ignition. “Well, I got food. Let’s go home.”

David put the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot, safely mostly, but accelerated quickly as Patrick continued to do his weird turtle rocking beside him. It left David with a weird pit in his stomach, anxiety starting to pool there. David pushed that feeling as far down as possible because Patrick needed him to be in control here, and just like when Alexis needed him, he could shove the worry down until Patrick was better. 

That was what got him through the ten minute drive to the apartment. He could do this for Patrick. David felt his lips purse again as Patrick gave a groan, sitting upright and getting out of the car. He didn’t say anything though, grabbing the food and trudging up the stairs behind Patrick who was not bounding up the three flights like he normally would, with a  _ come on, David! _ as David puffed up the last flight. Instead, David was concerned that he would have to use his hands which had two bags of supplies in them to steady Patrick on the walk up. 

Patrick offered to carry something but David just shook his head at Patrick and told him sick people got a pass from carrying bags. Patrick made a joke about how many times David had been sick in the past, then, which made David feel marginally better because if Patrick could joke with him it couldn’t be that bad. Still, he was more worried about Patrick swooning in the staircase and this was not the place for trust falls. 

Somehow, after what seemed like forever, they did make it up to the third floor and David regretted ever thinking negative things about Ray calling a three-storey apartment a penthouse. Although, if it were a  _ real  _ penthouse there would have been an elevator and Patrick wouldn’t have had to waste energy he didn’t have walking up the stairs. 

David sped slightly ahead of Patrick’s shuffle to get the door open before Patrick got to it because he had both sets of keys. He put both bags inside the door and held it as Patrick shuffled in past him.

“Going to try using the bathroom,” Patrick mumbled at him as he toed off his shoes in the entryway. 

“Good.” David picked up the bags from where he set them down. “Use the spray!”

David bustled around the tiny kitchen, washing his hands, taking the food from the bags. David kept shooting glances at the closed bathroom door, but heard no sound coming from there, painful or otherwise. David began making a neat line of the beverages he always preferred with stomach trouble, a seltzer that just needed bitters, ginger ale, and an electrolyte sports drink. He carefully laid out a napkin and a spoon and opened a sleeve of saltines and left it on Patrick’s side of the table. 

David opened up his own sandwich and eyed the bathroom door again. It felt like Patrick had been in there forever but David is unsure of the actual passage of time. The debate in his head to start eating or not lasts all of ten seconds, because if Patrick weren’t sick, David would have already started on the sandwich. 

He was nearly finished with the first half when David heard a flush and the eventual sound of running water from the sink. David was barely conscious of setting his sandwich down and carefully wiping his fingers and mouth, an old practiced habit, as he waited for Patrick to emerge. 

“Any better?” David asked, when Patrick did appear but he didn’t really have to. One look at him, and David could tell that Patrick was still horrifyingly pale, more so than usual, but now there were two bright red spots on his cheeks. His gait was still slow and his left hand came up and across his belly again. 

“Nope.”

Patrick drew up to the table and David catalogued the little wince Patrick gave as he sat and the way he just regarded the meal blankly. 

“I know you don’t want to eat anything but you should try, a little. Bodies need fuel. Do you want something to drink? I can-I got ginger ale, and I got seltzer, Adelina always used to put a dash of bitters in it and stir when I had a stomach ache, or Gatorade but that’s really more for if you need to replace fluids. Or, there’s always water.”

David pressed his lips together to keep more words from spilling from his lips. 

Patrick’s lips ticked up again and it made David’s heart lift a little more. “How about you give me Adelina’s treatment for stomach aches?”

“Okay,” David answered, sounding stupidly breathy because he was so fucking glad to have another task to do. 

He fixed Adelina’s familiar cure, the one she used to pretend was their secret when she would take the bitters off his Dad’s bar cart. He glanced back at the table as he pulled the bitters off of Patrick’s own bar cart. Patrick sat motionless staring blankly at the food in front of him. David huffed, feeling irritated at the helplessness of trying to make Patrick feel better. David shook a few dashes into the glass before depositing the slightly red-orange beverage in front of his fiancé, abandoning the ingredients on the counter. 

They ate in relative silence. Or, to be truthful, David ate and watched Patrick like a hawk. Watched him nibble on a saltine one tiny bite after another. Watched a carefully spooned-up bit of soup get brought up to Patrick’s lips, broth only. David wanted to sit there and handle the spoon himself, but he knows his stubborn man better than anyone, so he doesn’t. Patrick hasn’t admitted to being anything other than _ fine _ yet. David’s need to tend to Patrick will only be allowed to a point.

It was both forever and not long enough in the slowest eating competition Patrick was playing by himself when Patrick put down the spoon and carefully slid the food away from himself. “I can’t eat anymore.”

“You had four spoonfuls of broth and three saltines.” David’s face morphed into a deep frown. He knew his voice was high pitched and snappy with worry but couldn’t stop it. “That’s not a full meal. It’s not even a snack.”

“David,” Patrick said, softly and David could make out the thread of pain underneath. 

David swallowed, feeling vaguely guilty for pushing, but added softly, “You barely finished one piece of toast for breakfast.”

“I feel so full and nauseous, David.” Patrick told him, and David realized his left hand had never once left his stomach while he ate. Tears began to form at the corner of Patrick’s eyes and his voice cracked as he said simply, “It hurts.”

And like that, every bit of David that was snappy and irritated with Patrick for being sick and not admitting it, not caring for himself, washed away. David was up from his seat and rounding the table to crouch in front of Patrick, his head shaking a vehement nope.

David wiped at one of the tears that began to fall as Patrick closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I think everyone would be best served by you putting on pajamas and going back to bed.”

David offered his arm and Patrick’s right hand gripped his forearm, hard. David bit back his own wince because he was pretty sure his arm had nothing on Patrick’s stomach ache right now. He waited while Patrick drew a slow breath in through his nose and out again through his mouth. Patrick held the next long breath and used it to lever himself up and out of the seat, a groan slipping through his lips. David stood with him, not without noticing that Patrick had lost his belt somewhere, had not buttoned his pants and that his left hand was not actually putting any pressure on his belly, but was instead keeping the waistband of his underwear off his skin. 

David pursed his lips again, cataloguing all of the odd behavior carefully in his head. He would go searching for the missing belt after he got Patrick settled, more concerned about the way he was attempting to keep his clothes away from his stomach. Still, David forced the anxious bile that was trying to rise in his throat back down. 

It was with a forced smile and a slight eyebrow waggle that he said lightly, “Let’s get you naked.”

“Okay, David.”

David let Patrick control the pace of their journey across the apartment to the bed. In the time they have been together, the words  _ let’s get you naked _ had never been met with such a dull response. 

“Your underwear bothering you?” David asked, sliding away from Patrick’s side to face him. David brought a hand up to cup Patrick’s jaw and Patrick’s head nuzzled into him like a cat. 

David watched Patrick’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed heavily. “Yeah. It keeps digging in.”

“Okay, let’s handle that then.” With a swift motion David stripped Patrick from the waist down. He remained in a crouch and said “Step out,” and waited until Patrick’s hand came to rest on his shoulder and he carefully followed directions. 

David glanced up and took in the sight of the half naked man in front of him. On another day, David would be having a very different lunchtime interlude. “Mm, alright, you finish unbuttoning that shirt. I am going to find pants that won’t dig in.”

Patrick’s hands began slowly slipping the buttons out through their holes as David turned away. “I don’t know if we have to bother with all that, David.”

“Umm, I would rather put you in pants now, than have this situation get worse and have to try putting them on you if we have to get you to a doctor later. So yes,” David cheated a look over his shoulder to see that Patrick was still slowly unbuttoning his shirt, “we will bother with all this.”

David got the softest, largest pair of pajama pants Patrick had and within a few minutes he had his fiancé tucked into bed in nothing more than his undershirt and the loose pants. David sat on the edge of the bed as he smoothed down the duvet. 

“What do you need?”

Patrick swallowed again, and David’s brow drew back together. Patrick’s tongue slid between his lips and he bit down on his lower lip before saying heavily, “Sleep, I think.”

“Okay.” David didn’t like the bright red spots that burned on Patrick’s otherwise pale cheeks. He ran his fingers along Patrick’s cropped hairline, more for his own comfort. Patrick’s eyes fluttered closed at David’s touch. “Well, I am going to tidy up, and then I-“ David sighed, “I will just be here, whatever you need.”

“David, you should go back to work.”

David’s head started shaking vehemently even though Patrick couldn’t see it. “Umm, no. Nope. Incorrect. I will be staying here, thank you.”

“To do what?” Patrick asked, his eyes fluttering open. “Stare at me like a creep while I sleep? David, you have a meeting with Olivia Freedman. You have been dying to set up a contract with her for months. Don’t cancel.”

“You’re sick.”

Patrick lifted a hand and took David’s hand in his own. David didn’t miss the way Patrick’s hand tightening around his own matched up with another swallow. “And I will still be sick in a few hours when you’re done and then you can come sit here and stare at me in the dark.”

“You’re in pain,” David countered again.

“Yeah.” Patrick gave a small shrug, pain still “Not much to be done about that. This isn’t like a cold, David.”

David rubbed his thumb vigorously over the back of Patrick’s hand in his. “Yes, you’re insufferable with a cold.”

“Me?” Patrick asked, eyebrows raising slightly. 

They were both insufferable. The last time they had both been sick they had pestered Stevie into coming over and she hadn’t lasted longer than an hour. But David wasn’t going to bring that up now. Instead, he untangled their hands and pressed a quick kiss to Patrick’s forehead. 

David puttered around the one-bedroom apartment: cleaning up the vestiges of lunch, finding the braided belt discarded by the toilet, moving Patrick’s shoes into their correct position. Normally, even if Patrick had a cold and required tea and tissues and throat lozenges, he still managed to put his things away properly, as if on auto-pilot. David didn’t particularly like this illness that had Patrick hazy and haphazard. 

David remained pensive as he took the half-consumed Adelina Stomachache Treatment and placed it on the bedside table. Patrick just lay there, eyes closed, in a somewhat fetal position. David resisted the urge to brush his fingers at Patrick’s forehead, curling his hand into a fist instead. He wasn’t going to disturb him.

David kept turning over Patrick’s urging him to go back to the store for his meeting. David had spent almost two months going back and forth with Olivia to set up a meeting time and David wanted her to sign on with Rose Apothecary. Canceling would lead to more scheduling issues. He wanted this meeting, but he also didn’t want to leave Patrick. 

What he was going to do, David decided, was set up as much as he could. He lined a waste bin with a plastic bag, carefully inspected for holes, and placed it by the side of the bed. He also filled a glass with water and stuck bendy straws in both beverages. He removed the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and added it to the bedside table along with a variety of painkillers and other medications that could come in handy. David threw one of the soft, bean-filled packs that Sophia in Elm Grove made and laced with lavender, in the microwave, and set it for three minutes. 

David made sure to slightly adjust the furniture in the living room to make as clear a path to the bathroom as possible while he waited. The microwave beeped and he grabbed the hot bean bag with a towel.

David sat on the edge of the bed, and despite all precautions, Patrick’s face winced as the bed dipped and his eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“Here’s the deal, honey,” David began, looking Patrick in the eye, “I will consider going to work under the following conditions: We are taking your temperature, you are going to take pain meds and try a hot compress. Your phone will be plugged in at your bedside and at the sign of things getting worse you will contact me immediately, even if I am supposed to be in an important meeting.”

“Okay, David,” Patrick returned, amusement creeping into his voice. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Mmmm. Mmhmm. I do.”

David poked at Patrick until he rolled into his back. “Compress first.”

David rolled down the comforter, exposing Patrick’s torso. Usually, David would have already had a frisson of heat running down his spine, excited for the bits that would come next. Today there was no next—all David really felt was pinpricks of anxiety because Patrick was unwell. He lifted the heated sack of warmed beans from its spot behind him and he liked the way it felt in his hands. 

Patrick was eyeing him warily, though. “Is that heavy?”

“If you don’t like it, I will take it off, but it’s worth a try.” David positioned the pack over Patrick’s belly gently. “How’s that?”

“It-not bad, now. Like, it hurt a little when you put it on but now that it’s there it feels a little better.”

“Okay,” David said, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s something. Open up.”

David slid the thermometer under Patrick’s tongue and got up to go searching for Patrick’s phone. He found it in the pants in the hamper and clicked it into the charger. “37.5,” David read when the thermometer beeped.

“Technically, still in the normal range.”

“Mmm. Technically.” David rolled his eyes before staring back at the thermometer. He could argue that it was higher than normal for Patrick but he wasn’t even sure that was true, other than the fact that Patrick only used the word technically when he was trying to prove a point. In the two years they had been together their regular ambient body temperature wasn’t something they had thought to compare. 

“Okay,” David grabbed the ibuprofen from the bedside which rattled sharply and twisted the cap. “Let’s get some light medication into you that will take the edge off.”

“David,” Patrick said, a one word protest.

David shook the little orange pills into his hand. David held them out to Patrick. “I know you don’t want to, but you’re going to.” His jaw was set firm and he wanted Patrick to understand it was non-negotiable. 

“Fine, David.”

David tilted the pills into Patrick’s hand and reached for the fresh cup of water by Patrick’s bedside. Patrick leaned up on his elbows and threw the pills into his mouth and took a sip. Patrick made a strained noise as he swallowed and a flicker of guilt twisted in David’s gut. 

David fussed with the compress again when Patrick laid back down. “You’re sure you don’t mind me leaving to go to work.”

“David, you’ve done everything you can. I am literally going to sleep for the next few hours and you’ll just sit here and have to reschedule. Go take the meeting.”

“And you promise if you feel worse you will contact me.”

“Pinky swear,” Patrick told him, offering a finger and giving off very Alexis vibes. Clearly, they had been spending far too much time together. 

“We’re not doing that.”

Patrick’s lips curved up into another tiny smile and this time his eyes carried an extra spark. “Cross my heart, Hope-“

David placed a finger over Patrick’s lips, a chill running down his spine. “Do _not_ finish that sentence. It’s _not funny_.”

“Sorry, David.” Patrick told him, partially chastised. “I promise.”

“Mmm,” David murmured dubiously. He took a deep breath in and let it out, rubbing his hands up and down his own thighs. “Okay. Alright. After the meeting, I am closing early; I do _not_ care.”

Patrick’s eyes drifted close, lashes falling down to fan out over his cheeks where the shadows of childhood freckles still lived. His voice was heavy with sleep as he murmured, “Sounds good, David.”

David leaned back over and pressed a quick kiss to Patrick’s forehead. The uneasy feeling stayed with him as he gathered his things and slipped out of the apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright friends, getting whumpier from here. The next three chapters are a little hard on our button. There is a reason I didn't put it from his point-of-view. Please note all depictions of this illness are based on my own bout of appendicitis—symptoms and experiences are different for everyone—just sharing mine, from an outside perspective. 
> 
> Big thanks to TINN and RQ for their amazing work keeping me polished. Thanks to banesapothacary for catching a major typo in the last chapter that was totally my fault. I appreciate all of the encouragement and positive messages, particularly from the friends I have made. This is my third mutli-chapter in this fandom and I hadn't completed one in YEARS before this fandom. Y'all are the best.

The meeting with Olivia went off without a hitch. David was excited they had agreed on their partnership to have Rose Apothecary products in her new farm-to-table restaurant in Elmdale and David had compiled a list of vendors he needed to contact for orders. Back at the store he shooed a woman— who looked slightly like Twyla and talked even more— out of the store with her completed purchases after what felt like a lifetime. He was just turning the sign to closed when Alexis bounced through the door. David felt his jaw set as he turned to walk to the cashwrap. 

“Mmm, six weeks, David!!” Alexis cooed loudly, her heels clacking as she followed him across the store. “Can you believe it?!”

“What?” David asked, looking up at her from the POS tablet after logging in.

“ _Da_ -vid, your _wedding_!” Alexis reached across the counter and poked at his shoulder hard with her index finger. 

David swatted at her hand and realized he hadn’t thought about the wedding all day. Most days he spent going through emails, doodling bits of his visions in the margins of paper, peppering Patrick with questions. Today, he had been so worried about Patrick he hadn’t had room for anything else. 

David shook his head to clear it and blinked at his sister. “Uh, What are you doing here?”

Her forehead wrinkled and a frown formed on her lips. “Umm, David, I am here for going through the checklists and evaluating what are our top priorities for the week. Patrick was going to let us go early?” She began peering around the room for any sign of the man in question.

“We’re going to have to reschedule,” David told her shortly, beginning the process of shutting down the till. “Patrick’s sick.”

“Poor baby!” Alexis’s frown transformed into a full pout and her hands came to rest under her chin and dangle. “The sniffles?”

“No.” David printed out the till total and began counting coins in the drawer and adding totals into the count on the screen. “A stomach thing. I’m closing early.”

Alexis blew out a huff and David caught her flipping her hair back and fluttering at the edge of the counter. “Well, David, if you’re closing early we can still get a little wedding stuff done.”

“No,” he insisted, moving onto the bills, “I’m going to go home.”

“Couldn’t we work there quietly, David? We don’t have to bother him.”

David keyed in the last bill total before giving his sister a glare. Alexis scrunched up her whole face in confusion and shook her head at him. David was about to give his sister a speech about how Patrick’s health was more important than his fucking wedding, so they could skip one day, when a loud buzzing noise sounded. 

“Fuck.” David dove for the drawer in the counter where he kept his phone and quickly clicked on the green phone icon that hovered in the corner of Patrick’s smiling face flashing on the screen. He heard the line click on “Patrick?”

“David,” Patrick’s voice broke with a small sob through the speaker, and David felt his heart clench. “Can you come home?”

“Already closed,” David returned, a lie because the counter was covered in neat piles of money. His voice was steadier than his heart, which felt like the crows swarming in his mother’s latest film. “I’m on my way.”

“I think-“ Patrick’s breath caught again. David bit his lip and forced a breath in through his nose. Patrick rarely ever let himself get close to tears, let alone actually cry. “I think. David, something’s wrong.”

“Alright. I know.” He had fucking _known_. Something felt off the entire time and he never should have left Patrick alone. “I’ll be right there.”

“David?” Alexis’s voice buzzed in the background like a mosquito. 

David shoved all the money into the zippered pouch for the bank and headed for the back to throw it in the safe. “Just, don’t move okay. Do you want,” the safe clicked open on the first time and David threw the bag inside without filling out any of Patrick’s paperwork. “Should I call for an ambulance?”

“Come home,” Patrick asked plaintively. 

“David?” His sister’s buzzing was louder and David waved her off as he stepped out from the back and came around the counter, snagging his duffle from underneath the counter. 

“Okay. Alright,” he promised, moving around the counter with greater speed than usual and thankfully didn’t trip. “I’ll be right there.” 

“David!” Alexis yelled as the line went dead. 

He snapped. “I do not have time for you right now, Alexis!” David shouted, whirling on her. 

Alexis’s face wasn’t angry despite the yelling; her brow had a slight furrow and her lips turned down at the corners, worry filling her eyes. Her voice was soft as she said, “David, give me your keys and let’s go.”

“I don’t—”

Before he dismissed her again, Alexis interrupted, getting into his space. The softer, gentler version of his sister started to fade away. “You’re a terrible driver when you’re _not _upset. Let me drive.”__

____

__

“I can handle this,” David told her and himself, working to bank down on the hysteria that was bubbling under the surface. “I am good in a crisis.”

__

__

Alexis wore a sympathetic smile, edges retreating, as she put a hand on his shoulder. “I know, but you never had to drive when you handled mine.” 

__

__

Rather than fight what would only be a losing battle, he handed over the keys and Alexis shifted her boho bag further up her shoulders. She stalked past him to the door. “Let’s go, David! I have a 6 out of 6 success rate for delivering people whose kidneys had been harvested, to the hospital, without any of them dying.”

__

__

The word dying made the stone in his stomach turn into a boulder. David locked the door and chased after her. “Fuck.”

__

__

Alexis pulled up to the apartment in less than five minutes, which David was fairly certain should have got them pulled over, but was not sorry about in the least. He was in the door in a record amount of time and found Patrick, curled up on the bed, pillow clutched tightly in his arms, tears falling down his cheeks. 

__

__

“Oh, honey,” David crooned. He reached out a hand to touch Patrick, second guessing, pulling his hand back and then extending it out and putting his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. David rubbed. “It’s going to be okay.”

__

__

Patrick opened his honey colored eyes and all David could see was the pain in them. “David.”

__

__

“I know. We’re going to have to get you into the car.”

__

__

“I just happened,” Patrick stuttered, his voice unusually choppy, “suddenly. It’s not like I didn’t—I called.”

__

__

“I know. I know,” David soothed. “You did exactly the right thing.”

__

__

“I woke up and it felt like someone had stabbed me, right here-ish,” Patrick lifted his top arm and made a circle over an area that David couldn’t quite distinguish with how curled up Patrick was and with the pillow. “and then I felt more nauseous, which I didn’t know was possible. I threw up— a couple of times.” Patrick paused, letting out a low moan, causing David to wince. Patrick breathed in and out two more times before continuing. “Now it hurts when I do anything. Even breathing hurts.”

__

__

Nothing about Patrick’s description of how things had devolved made David feel any better. His brain kept whirring, insisting that they had to get to the hospital now. David forced himself to slow down and bring it back to step one. Step one was getting Patrick out of the bed. “Alright. I am going to need you to sit up and then stand up.”

__

__

Patrick gave a shake of his head no. David wondered how he was going to do any of this without Patrick’s help. At least with the piggy back up the mountain, Patrick only had a small scratch, and had been able to hold on. David was fairly sure Patrick was not going to be able to hold himself up if David tried to carry him and David was not willing to risk dropping him down the flight of stairs.

__

__

“Patrick,” Alexis’s voice sang from inside the apartment, startling David. “you didn’t happen to feel a pop or anything and like, mm, get better for a little bit before it got worse did you?”

__

__

David turned to see Alexis, who he had hadn’t heard enter the apartment, as he started putting his own sweats in a duffle. He wondered how long she had fucking been in here. He couldn’t remember her following him up from the car. 

__

__

Patrick seemed unbothered by Alexis having popped up in their apartment without warning. “No. I just felt awful then got worse.”

__

__

Alexis moved on from the shelf of David’s sweats and moved into the kitchen with the duffle bag. “Okay. Good. You’ll let us know though, if you do, feel magically better?”

__

__

Patrick just gave a nod and curled into himself a little more. Alexis flitted away to do something and David bit his lip. He had to peel Patrick up somehow. David knew that whatever he did was going to cause him more pain and that was the last thing that he wanted to do. He just needed to figure out how to get him the fuck up.

__

__

David ran a hand down Patrick’s back to soothe, but Patrick’s breaths were coming in short pants and tears were still falling down his cheeks. David maneuvered his hands underneath Patrick and began sliding him to the edge of the bed so his legs would be able to dangle over the edge. Once he had Patrick positioned, he realized he should be ready for them to move, relatively quickly. 

__

__

“Alexis-“

__

__

Before he could even finish the question, Alexis plunked down Patrick’s rattiest and most comfortable sneakers that David hated and a pair of clean socks. Fucking magic. 

__

__

“Mmm.” David looked His fiancé over again “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to get you upright, we are going to put on shoes and then we are going to head to the car.”

__

__

David slid one hand under Patrick’s neck and the other under his shoulder until he was practically leaning over his fiance. Then, David used his own leverage to lean back and bring Patrick upright with him.

__

__

“Nngh.”

__

__

“I know. I know,” David soothed, rubbing his hands over Patrick’s shoulders and arms as he moved around to slide into a crouch in front of his fiancé. “We’re going to go get you better. You’re doing great.”

__

__

“David,” Patrick whined as David reached for the pillow that Patrick was clutching.

__

__

“I know. I know,” David murmured, carefully peeling one of Patrick’s hands off of the pillow, and carefully placing it on his shoulder. “Hands on my shoulders while I put on your shoes,” David instructed. David managed to get the pillow out of the way and Patrick ended up hunched over, clutching at David’s shoulders. It was something.

__

__

David quickly pulled out the laces on Patrick’s gross shoes and took a foot to slide a first a sock and the shoe on. Patrick hissed when David moved his leg. David winced, but picked up “Sorry. Sorry. I know. Real quick.”

__

__

Eventually, David had both shoes on and tied with only a variety of gasps and groans from Patrick. David’s lips had been pressed into a tight line for so long he felt like they were going numb. He glanced up and forced a smile when he saw Patrick’s strained face. “Alright, now for the hard part.”

__

__

“I don’t—David—“

__

__

David kept up the smile, despite wanting to cry himself. “I know. I know. But it’s this or waiting for an ambulance. That could possibly include hot men lifting you onto a stretcher. Knowing our luck they would look like Bob, or Roland. Alexis might be faster.” If any of Alexis’s stories were true, and David believed most of them, she was definitely faster. 

__

__

A chuckle escaped through Patrick’s lips followed by a gasp and a groan. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

__

__

David quickly pressed his forehead against Patrick's, taking a moment for both of them. He had to move though. Alexis's questions about feeling magically better kept dancing in the back of his mind. They needed to go. David pulled back and tried to sound more sure than he was. “Alright, I am going to start standing up. You just hold onto my neck.”

__

__

Patrick let out a hiss as his feet hit the floor and David winced in sympathy. He continued to straighten and heard a small keening noise out of Patrick and stopped. David shifted, taking Patrick’s arms from around his neck and shifted them to his own waist. David straightened further, wrapping an arm around Patrick’s shoulders. 

__

__

“Slow steps, okay,” David said, more to himself than to Patrick. David wanted to rush and that wouldn’t help anyone. “We just have to get to the car.”

__

__

They made their way out into the hallway, slow but steady. Patrick was hunched over, his hand fisting in David’s sweater to stay upright. Alexis locked the door behind them and raced ahead to the car. The walk felt tortuously slow to David but he knew Patrick was feeling every step. 

__

__

“You feeling any better?” David asked as they made it to the stairs. “You stopped crying.”    
  


__

It wasn’t what David had expected. He figured if, at anything, moving would have made everything hurt worse. Patrick’s description earlier made it sound like any movement at all was agony. 

__

__

“No,” Patrick murmured, his face against David’s sweater. “I still feel awful. Just,” he halted, letting out a small moan, “not alone.”

__

__

They made it down to the first landing when Patrick gasped, “David. I need a minute.”

__

__

David stopped and Patrick slid both arms around David, letting David take most of his weight. David held on, rubbing up and down Patrick’s back. After what felt like minutes but easily could have been seconds, David began to shift himself back slightly. “The sooner we get in the car, the sooner you’ll get the good drugs.”

__

__

“And you’ll make sure I get them,” Patrick asked, pulling back to walk again, his voice carrying a hint of the teasing tone that rarely left his voice. “Because you know what all the good drugs are, David.”

__

__

“I do.”

__

__

They finally made their way down the stairs and out to where Alexis had the car pulled in front of the building’s front door. Patrick hadn’t straightened up once on the walk down but had made it to the car under his own power which David hoped was a good sign. 

__

__

Alexis opened the door and David helped Patrick slide down into the passenger seat of his car. Patrick moaned and David’s heart jumped into his throat, heavy and uncomfortable. David let Patrick just sit, hunched over for a minute and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, listening to Patrick’s ragged breaths. 

__

__

“Would you rather lay down?”

__

__

“Yeah?”

__

__

“Okay. I am going to lift the lever.”

__

__

David leaned the seat back and Patrick curled up in the front seat on his left side, almost as if they had never taken him out of bed. David clicked the seatbelt into place and closed the door softly as he headed around the car to the back seat, with Alexis already in the driver's seat. He slid across the bench to the middle, buckling himself in and arranging himself to be right by where Patrick’s head was facing him. 

__

__

“Fancy meeting you here,” Patrick said, his voice laced with pain. 

__

__

“Nowhere else I would rather be.”

__

__

Alexis turned the engine over and threw the car into gear. Somehow, his sister managed a grin that looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Alright boys, hold tight. David, I put your waste bin with clean bags by your feet in case someone doesn’t feel well.”

__

__

Patrick's lip curled into a facsimile of a smirk. “Don’t think there’s much left in there.”

__

__

Alexis peeled out of the building’s lot. Patrick’s hand traveled up the seat, and David took it in his own. His right hand came to rest on Patrick’s head, rubbing his thumb along his fiancé’s temple. 

__

__

The drive to the Elmdale ER took less than thirty minutes, which was a miracle that only Alexis could manage. Still, every bump and turn had Patrick flinching and David lived and died with every expression on his face. He had no idea what he murmured to Patrick on the drive, but he was certain it was nonsense, anything to make him feel better. 

__

__

They had used the waste can twice but all that came up was tiny bits of bile and Patrick’s tears. By the time they had swerved into the carport, David was willing to fight anyone to make Patrick’s pain stop. 

__

__

Alexis had flown out of the car as fast as she had driven and came back in seconds with a wheelchair and an attendant who was following Alexis’s every move and directive. David didn’t want to let anyone else touch Patrick but it was nice having someone trained help maneuver Patrick through what definitely would have been a tricky extraction from the car and help him into a hunched over position in the chair. 

__

__

David strode up to the counter as Alexis maneuvered Patrick in the wheelchair, with David’s duffle bag slung over her shoulder. 

__

__

The woman sitting at the counter was middle-aged with a classic soccer mom bob flipped out at the ends, that had been cute ten years ago. David gave a wave as he stopped in front of her, his arms illustrating his words as he spoke. “Uh, hi, hello. We have a bit of an emergency. My fiancé is experiencing excruciating pain and needs to be seen immediately.”

__

__

The woman whose name tag read Donna barely glanced at where he had pointed at Patrick. Instead she glanced down, handed David a clipboard that had a pen tied to it in mustard yellow yarn that was coarser than the rustic twine David had used to decorate baskets in the store. “I need you to fill out some forms and we will need his provincial health card.”

__

__

David pursed his lips and tilted his head as he took the clipboard. “Mmkay. I don’t think you understand the immediacy of the situation.”

__

__

“There is a waiting room full of people, sir,” Donna responded, deadpan.

__

__

Normally, David liked a good deadpan. Today, David wanted someone, anyone to please take his fiance and fix him immediately. His voice edged up an octave as he responded to the fact that there were other people in the room, none of whom from his cursory glance looked even remotely as awful as Patrick. “And he says he feels like someone is stabbing him on his right side. He hasn’t been able to eat all day. He  _ cried _ . Patrick never cries.”

__

__

Donna blinked once. “Has he actually been stabbed?”

__

__

“No!” David recoiled.

__

__

“David,” Patrick’s voice was thready, and a hand came to rest on his arm. David was still seeing red.

__

__

“Go fill out the forms.”

__

__

“He needs help,” David tried quietly.

__

__

“And we are going to help him. Go fill out the forms so we can do our jobs”

__

__

David clenched his jaw and turned on his heel. There were times he missed being able to throw cash at a situation and have things moved along for him. Today was one of those days. In another world, David would have walked in, said  _ Do you know who I am _ and would have gotten everything he wanted. Right now, they were stuck in a room full of people with sniffles and sprained ankles, being told to sit tight and wait for someone to get around to them.

__

__

“Let’s find ourselves a good spot,” Alexis chirped.

__

__

“For fuck’s sake, Alexis!” David snapped.

__

__

“Oh, look, direct line of sight to the counter. Perfect.” Alexis pulled Patrick to a stop in front of two open chairs and locked the wheelchair. She shoved the duffle bag at David and he pulled out Patrick’s wallet. “Get going on the forms, David. Let me handle the staff.”

__

__

Alexis turned her megawatt grin on and shifted her gaze to Donna and the nurses that were bustling around behind her. David wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Alexis had planned, but if anyone was going to get through difficult people, it would be his sister. He wondered how fast she could work as he took the tethered pen and began writing out  _ Patrick Michael Brewer _ on the top of the form.

__


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, this chapter is probably the whumpiest for our dear Patrick. There's a lot of comfort, but be prepared. This is again, based on my personal experience having appendicitis and my appendix out. All medical errors are the result of David misunderstanding (not my mis-remembering ;). )
> 
> Thank you to RQ and TINN for their beta services, combing through this behemoth and making it better. It takes a team to keep me in shape. Any faults in this fic, as always, remain mine.

David fluffed at the pillow on the hospital gurney behind Patrick’s head and pulled the covers up to cover his lower half. Thankfully, they hadn’t had to wait in the waiting room for as long. Mostly, it was due to Alexis making moon eyes at anyone who seemed to be interested in women and occasionally using the tone of voice that had got her to the front of every club line she had ever seen and into the VIP area without paying a cent. Within seconds of Alexis’s second conversation with Donna, Patrick had been bustled away by an attendant and David had followed behind, his sister waving at them.

“Well, this is better,” David said, sitting --he had done the best he could making Patrick comfortable with the abysmal hospital linens. 

Patrick turned his head to look at David, his eyes wrinkled at the corners, drawn in a squint. His voice was high and tight. “David. This is going to sound stupid, but I really want my mom.”

“It’s not stupid,” David answered honestly, “I have wanted Adelina no less than three times today.” Adelina would have handled everything quickly and efficiently and David wouldn’t have had to worry about anything. It just would have gotten done.

Realization dawned, and David worked to pull his phone out of his pocket. “We should call your parents.” 

“No,” Patrick insisted, grunting slightly.

David blinked twice at Patrick, trying to understand. “Patrick, you want them here. You rated your pain an eleven on a scale that ends at ten.”

While Moira Rose loved her children, she had kept them in a separate wing of their mansion and had often refused to see them, or had worn masks and gloves to interact with them when they were sick. Marcy Brewer, however, made sure her only son’s room shared a wall with her own and was a nurse. David was fairly certain she would be on the next plane when she found out her sweet boy was in the hospital. 

“I have you,” Patrick murmured. “Besides, they’re ten hours away and it’s late there.”

David rolled his eyes at that one. It wasn’t even past when he and Patrick normally ate dinner. “It’s an hour difference. Your mom has texted me at eleven o’clock at night, our time.”

“I just...when we know more. They can’t do anything tonight.”

“Okay,” David said, knowing his tone said the opposite. 

A nurse bustled in with a rolling electronic cart, a grin spread across his round face. The nurse had a blond beard that was entirely incorrect because it almost blended into his face as much as Patrick’s eyebrows. He was like a young, blond Santa type. “Hello, I’m Seth. Just going to get some vitals. Any pain today, Mr. Brewer, on a scale of one to ten.”

“Eleven.”

“Well that’s unpleasant,” Seth responded with a smile. 

“That’s a fucking understatement,” fell from David’s lips without an actual thought of stopping it. 

“David— “ 

His mouth shut with a snap after Patrick said his name like a plea. It’s a request that he be nice here, because David has rarely been the nice, polite one in their relationship. However, nice and polite weren’t going to see that Patrick is cared for here. 

“Just need to borrow your arm for a minute, Mr. Brewer.” Seth snapped a little finger thing on the tip of his index finger and lifted out the thermometer slipping it into a plastic sleeve. “Open up.”

“So what exactly are you here to do?”

“Initial screen. Going to take his oxygen levels, temperature,” The machine beeped and Seth slid the probe back out of Patrick’s mouth, ejecting the sleeve into a trash can on the cart. “Slightly elevated.”

“How elevated?” David asked, opening up his notes app, ready to type.

“38.”

“Thank you.”

Seth looked down at the reading on the pulse oximeter on Patrick’s finger with a slight frown. His fucking voice was even more cheery than his “Oxygen is low. Your breathing is rather short. Any idea why you’re struggling to take in air?”

“Hurts to breathe.”

“Where?” Seth asked, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Patrick’s arm. 

“His stomach,” David interjected, fury bubbling over. “Does no one read the paperwork? Why did I fucking fill it out if you’re not going to read it?”

Seth turned his jolly face and his creepy blonde beard on David. His face went slightly bland, but there was still a smile on his cheeks. “Mr.— “

“I am David Rose, and I need you to focus on Patrick please.”

The nurse blinked at him twice and David knew Seth recognized his name. Seth had probably spent a lot of time on Perez Hilton or TMZ or some such. He didn’t fucking care. Seth was back to his big smile, making his cheeks even more pronounced. “Mr. Rose, I need to make sure none of the answers changed and that the paperwork matches the patient.”

David gave Seth a short nod. “Blood pressure.”

“Normal range.” The nurse said and David grit his teeth. Seth at least had the decene to turn his focus to Patrick. “Now, your companion—“

“Fiancé,” David snapped. He was not going to get downgraded by fucking Seth.

David had a grudging amount of respect for the way Seth smoothly continued as if he hadn’t been snapped at. “Fiancé said your stomach was where you were experiencing pain. Can you tell me more?”

Patrick went through the description of his pain a second time and the nurse nodded, all the while taking some vials out of his cart and sticking labels neatly on them off a sheet. It was stupid but he was surprisingly good at it. He and Patrick could have used good fingers like those for sticking labels on their products. 

“Well, the doctor will be in for a physical exam and decide what other tests are needed but I am going to take some blood and I am going to need you to pee in this cup,” Seth said handing over a closed cup to David. 

David turned the cup in his hands, looking at Patrick’s name on the side of the cup and his birthday. “What are these tests for?” He asked, looking back at their jolly nurse. 

“We are going to use the blood to look for elevated white blood count,” Seth told him, tapping against Patrick’s extended arm under where they had tied on earlier. David looked down the cup rather than watch the needle slide into Patrick’s arm, “And do some quick panels for other illnesses and the urinalysis will let us know if we are dealing with kidney stones.”

“Okay. Do you think that’s likely?” David asked, giving another glance up, only feeling a little weird about the vials of Patrick’s blood being loaded into a tray. Angelina Jolie’s weird obsession with blood had left him eternally creeped out by blood in containers. “Kidney stones?”

Seth frowned, putting a bandaid over the spot in Patrick’s elbow where the needle had just been. “Abdominal pain is tricky. Could be just a regular case of gastroenteritis, could be kidney stones, could be his appendix or any number of things. Testing will let us know.”

“Thank you,” David said softly. Seth gave David a genuine smile and slipped out the door. 

David stood there, frozen for a moment, before realizing he was holding something in his hands. He looked down. The pee cup, right. The things one was willing to do when they loved someone were immense.

He glanced back up to where Patrick was watching him. David put on his most lewd smile and shook the cup for emphasis. “Alright, pee play isn’t really my thing, but we have this cup.”

“David, we talked about laughing. I don’t even know if I can pee.”

“Well, you haven’t gone all day,” David reminded him, unscrewing the cap of the small plastic container. “You just have to sit on the edge of the bed and aim. I love you enough to hold the cup.”

David was rewarded with another smile from Patrick. “That’s a lot of love.”

“Mmmhmm” David agreed, carefully putting the cup and it’s lid on the counter behind Patrick’s gurney. “Let’s sit up.”

“Let’s not and say we did,” Patrick returned, quietly stubborn. 

“Patrick.”

“David.”

David frowned at Patrick, who had let his eyes drift closed. If David knew his fiance at all, Patrick was veering dangerously close to his favorite coping mechanism— deny and avoid until the things he didn’t want to face magically went away. As magical resolution was never how things ended, David didn’t quite understand the function other than temporary relief. Patrick always ended up in a deeper mess for it. Considering that this was more than a bit of truth that Patrick didn’t want to deal with, and a potential medical emergency, David knew he would have to head Patrick off at the pass.

He reached out a hand and trailed it lightly down Patrick’s arm. “So, I know you’re in a lot of pain and you don’t want to do this, but the sooner they have answers the sooner they will give you something for the pain.”

Patrick’s pout would have been humorous if he wasn’t also still in an incredible amount of pain. As it was, the eyes that blinked open were dull and glassy and the only color on his face was the bright red spots from the fever. David still didn't like it.

When in doubt with Patrick, it was best to suggest something entirely ridiculous just to get him to the point of logic. “You could try peeing laying down. Don’t know how that would go but you can try.”

“No,” Patrick exhaled a heavy puff of air, the wheels in his head visibly turning. He cast his eyes to David. “I am going to need help.”

The words were spoken so plainly but they struck right at David’s core. Patrick was hyper-capable in every way. He rarely asked for help. Asked David to do things, always, like to call the electrician for the store, or to pick up pizza, but hardly ever to help him  _ do  _ something. Even when the proposal had been going sideways which was only partially David’s fault— how was he to know that there was even going to be a proposal?—Patrick still hadn’t asked for help. David had given it to him and Patrick begrudgingly accepted it. Patrick asking for help was gutting. 

They managed to struggle through getting him vaguely upright with minimal tears from Patrick, and some swearing on David’s end. He did not get peed on, which was highly fortunate for their entire relationship, because the alternative would not have gone well. Bodily fluids leaving the body was not David’s thing, particularly on him. He may have used copious amounts of hand sanitizer after he had screwed the top on the jar and placed it neatly off to the side of the counter. 

“David,” Patrick asked, laying back down. “When do you think the good drugs will start?”

David washed his hands twice for good measure. “Hopefully soon. They may give you an oxygen feed if yours is too low,” David mused aloud, thinking back to what Seth had said earlier. “Bill Gates had an oxygen bar at one of his house parties when I was fourteen. It’s nice.”

“Mmmmhh.”

David came back to sit next to Patrick and stroked his hand over Patrick’s forehead. “Well, the next person we see, I’ll ask.”

The next person was a lab technician who came to pick up the cup. She promised that she would let someone know and they would be back with them shortly. Whether this “them” was a doctor or Seth or someone else was not clear. Also, the mousey tech’s definition of  _ soon  _ left something to be desired, as David watched the minute hand on the clock tick by with nary a person coming in to check on them. 

Patrick lay curled on his side, mostly silent and internally focused. David had begun finding stupid lists about sportsball players that he did not care about on the internet to read to Patrick. That seemed to get the occasional smile. David would flick back to his own instagram and give colored commentary of unfortunate and trite photos that were found there. Every now and then he would get Patrick to open his eyes and look at one. 

It wasn’t a lot but it was something.

Eventually, the curtain to their small room opened and a petite doctor with a tight bun of black hair piled on top of her head that would give a ballerina envy walked in. Her crisp white coat read Doctor Alisha Stevens and her face was mostly neutral with a hint of a smile on it as she came closer, an attendant followed behind her with a tablet in their hands. 

“Hello, Mr. Brewer,” she greeted, her mouth turning into an actual smile, as she came to stand near David where Patrick could see her. “I understand you’re not feeling well.”

David’s arms flew up as he swore, “Fucking hell.”

“Uh,” Patrick groaned, and David “you could say that. Kind of feels like Jack the  _ -nnghh-  _ Ripper is having a really good time in there.”

The doctor just managed a polite, professional smile and nodded, coming out with an understated, “That is a very descriptive way of putting it.” 

David’s jaw clenched to the point of feeling like his molars were about to crack.

The doctor made Patrick run through the day’s timeline again and David kept interjecting key information like what exactly Patrick had to eat that day (practically nothing) and how he hadn’t been in an actual upright position for hours. He also pointed out all the ways that Patrick was not himself, such as leaving things out of place and crying. David knew that Patrick wouldn’t add in the important bits.

Dr. Stevens nodded and gave a tight lipped smile. “Alright, we’re going to do a physical exam now, and I am going to need you to lay flat on your back for me.”

“I—” Patrick closed his eyes again and groaned lightly. “do I have to?”

“We will help you if you need it,” Dr. Stevens said, her voice pleasant but clinical.

David bit back the urge to snap at the staff not touch Patrick and gently put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. He knew it would be best if he could get Patrick to turn on his own. “You just need to start by rolling over.”

“David.”

“The whole thing is going to hurt. The sooner it’s done, the sooner you get the good drugs.” David looked up from Patrick to glare at the doctor. “He will be getting some good drugs soon.” It wasn’t a question.

Dr. Stevens was good. She didn’t even blink. “First we need to diagnose the problem. Knowing Mr. Brewer’s level of pain without meds helps with the diagnosis. And you are?”

“Not important,” David dismissed.

Patrick began to roll from his side to his back without any further assistance. “He’s my fiancé and very important.” Patrick began before biting down on his lip and hissing out a long “Fffff-“

A laugh bubbled out of David unbidden. “You know, if you were ever going to swear and not hold down the letter like you’re smashing a keyboard, now would be a good time.”

Patrick was not amused, if the glare he sent David was anything to go by, as he slid his feet slightly down the gurney. “Hnnn.”

The doctor walked them through what she was going to do with calm, easy descriptions. Patrick reached out his hand and held onto David’s like a life-line. David scooted back to the head of the bed so the doctor had room to maneuver and kept his right arm draped around Patrick’s shoulder. David stared as Dr. Stevens pressed her long, glove covered fingers into Patrick’s left side. 

“Make a note of abdominal guarding,” she murmured to the woman following her. 

“What does that mean?” David asked, giving Patrick’s hand a comforting squeeze. 

She went and pressed her fingers in again, slightly further away from the last spot. “Patrick is tensing his stomach when I go to touch it. It’s a defensive mechanism.” She moved her fingers again. “Is the pain worse if I touch here?”

Patrick shook his head. 

Once the doctor’s hand was over Patrick’s right side, he gasped and let out a deep groan as the doctor pressed down. “Pain is localized in the lower right quadrant.” 

David leaned over to press a kiss to Patrick’s head to soothe, but reared back as Patrick howled with pain and shot up off the bed, curling out of his flat positioning. 

“What the fuck?” David’s hand was still clasped in Patrick’s, his fiancés fingernails digging into the skin on the back of his hand. Patrick’s breaths were coming in sobbing gasps and David had to resist the urge to crawl onto the gurney with Patrick and physically shield him. 

“Rebound tenderness,” Dr. Stevens remarked calmly. “Peritoneum is likely inflamed.”

“What does  _ that  _ mean?” David asked, not even sorry at the slight hysterical tone his voice had developed. 

“Pain increases when the inflamed area is released back into negative space. Indicative of a larger infection happening in the connective tissues in that area.”

She slid her glance to Patrick who was doing a fair impression of a curled up hedgehog. “I am going to need you to lay flat again.”

David shot another glare at the doctor. “Honey, let’s just roll back.”

“I—I…” David exhibited a gentle pressure and Patrick came backward with him hissing, “Ffff.”

“Again,” David reminded, getting his shoulders settled back, “Nothing will happen if you say the whole word. Studies show that swearing helps with pain.”

The doctor continued to examine Patrick and thankfully didn’t cause any more excruciating pain. David followed her every movement with his eyes. When she was finished she stripped off her gloves, disposing of them with long brown fingers that looked like they were meant to play piano instead of examining patients. Patrick rolled back onto his left side, presenting the doctor with his back. 

“Well, based on current tests and the physical exam you are presenting a case of appendicitis. I am going to order a CT scan. A nurse will be coming in with a contrast solution for you to drink.”

“What is a  _ contrast solution? _ ”

“It helps us highlight the internal organs in a scan to visualize what areas are inflamed. Once we get a clearer picture, we’ll get you a game plan. I’ll be back.”

Once the room had been emptied of medical personnel, David shifted the chair so that he was level with Patrick’s face. He made sure to pull the blanket back up as a light tremor had begun to run through Patrick. David wasn’t sure if it was due to the fever or pain. David found an article about the Blue Jays chances for a run at their end of the year festival this early in the season to read out loud to Patrick, deliberately messing up terms the whole time but Patrick remained unresponsive. 

Seth returned with a giant clear cup that looked like it had some off-brand lemonade in it. David was willing to bet it was Crystal Light. He wondered what the fuck the revenue service had done with the pallet of Crystal Light his mother had never gotten rid of after she shot a series of commercials for them. 

“Heard you’re up for a CT scan,” Seth said, like it was the same as a trip to Disneyland. “I am going to need you to drink this over the course of the next hour to ninety minutes, okay?”

Patrick opened his eyes, took one glance at Seth’s offering and screwed his eyes shut again. “I don’t think I can. That’s too much.”

“Mkay, Seth,” David addressed their nurse as he placed the cup on the edge of the table. “as we talked about earlier, Patrick is really nauseous and in a lot of pain and we have already dealt with throwing up whatever little he ate today, so if there’s another way that would be very much appreciated.”

Seth shook his head but his smile never wavered. “Intravenous would only highlight the vascular system. You know, blood vessels, arteries, capillaries. We are looking at the digestive system.”

David nodded quickly as if his question had been answered to his satisfaction at all. “What If he throws up after drinking it?” David asked, knowing that if he were forced to drink a big gulp of Crystal Light he would throw up. He had lost that bet to Alexis. 

Seth just shrugged. “If it’s before the test, we’ll make him a new one to drink.”

“Oh, mmmhmm. Excellent. Thank you. We’ll be handling this now.” David scooted the glass of what honestly looked like radioactive pee up on the table closer to himself and Patrick. Patrick slid an eye open to stare at the cup like it was a particularly dangerous object. 

“Oh, Seth, before you go,” David stopped the nurse he’d just dismissed a moment ago. David let out a simpering laugh as he tilted his head to the side and skewered Seth with a look. “As I mentioned, Patrick is in extreme discomfort and we were wondering at what time he might be receiving some medication to help with that?”

“As we are currently monitoring—“

“So the answer is not until—” David narrowed eyes at the nurse as he paused. “What  _ exactly _ are you  _ waiting _ for?”

He was fairly certain that the entire ER staff was labeling him difficult. Even knowing that, David still couldn’t stop himself from asking pushy questions. Who else was going to make sure Patrick was properly cared for? Patrick certainly wasn’t. Even if he was well enough to think clearly enough to ask important questions, Patrick was too polite to insist on the things he needed until it was too late, which was how David had won the prize of being the member of this relationship that had to ask Ronnie for things. 

“The doctor will reassess the situation after the CT scan.”

“Fucking perfect,” David murmured, droping his gaze to his fiance, whose eyes had fallen closed again. Or at least he felt like he whispered it. David forced a smile on his face. “Thank you.”

David waved the nurse out of the room before the smile fell off his face. David turned to the man still curled up in what the hospital labeled a bed. He picked up the cup and held it between the two of them. “Alright, well, we have this delightful looking beverage.”

Patrick wouldn’t even open his eyes, but gave the tiniest headshake followed by a pitiful, whispered, “I can’t.”

“Well, unfortunately,  _ can’t  _ isn’t really an option here.”

Patrick remained carefully motionless and a sigh slipped from David’s lips. David reached out his free hand and tentatively stroked fingers down Patrick’s shoulder. “It’s not like you have to chug it. This isn’t a party. Little sips over the next hour or so.”

Davis just waited. Patrick’s face was still hovering between pained and the entirely mulish expression he was prone to when he was feeling particularly stubborn. An eye cracked open and stared back at David. “Fine.”

Tilting the straw slightly more, David angled it so he didn’t have to tilt the cup too much and Patrick could close his lips around the straw. David watched Patrick’s cheeks hollow to suck in a sip. Almost instantly, Patrick’s whole body shuddered and his face scrunched in tight. 

“That bad?”

“I thought Twyla’s milkshakes were frequently inedible. That’s worse.”

David shook the container softly so as not to spill it, but enough to highlight the excitement. “Well, if you’re really lucky you only ever have to drink this one.”

“What if I don’t?” Patrick’s tongue worked against the top of his mouth and out making a tsksking sound. “Ugh.”

“What?”

Patrick gave another shudder. “It has this awful, metallic taste.”

“Well, it’s time for another sip so…”

“David.”

“It’s  _ not _ optional.”

“I want to go home,” Patrick whined, his voice hitching, reminding David viscerally of their hike to the proposal spot. 

He wanted to wrap Patrick up and give him what he wanted. If he could, they would leave this hospital with their cheerful but less than urgent staff and just go home and curl up in Patrick’s bed. 

The reality of how sick Patrick was crashed into him, though. “Well, that’s not happening,” he snapped back. 

“David.”

His patience had turned brittle and fractious like overtreated hair, and it dripped in his voice. “The road home involves drinking this fucking _ thing _ and taking some tests and  _ then _ when you’re fixed we go home.”

“I just...I just don’t want to be here.”

His eyes rolled before David could do anything about it. “No one  _ wants _ to be here. It’s a fucking hospital. Sip.”

“Mmm,” Patrick moaned, never opening his lips. 

“Nope. Try again.”

Forlorn honey eyes blinked at David and, if he weren’t as stubborn as he was himself, David would have caved, said  _ No, you don’t have to drink anything _ and soothed Patrick. But, David  _ was  _ just as obstinate as his fiancé, though, and in this case Patrick’s stubbornness was only going to lead to getting himself sicker, which was not an option. 

“Patrick,” David ground out from between clenched teeth. “This isn’t a choice and if I have to FaceTime your mother to make her insist you do the right thing I will. Or, I can invite Alexis back. I am fairly certain she’s trained in waterboarding.”

Patrick opened his lips and formed a small O around the straw and sipped. “Those are dirty tactics,” he gasped out when he finished. 

David frowned at Patrick. “I still think I should call your parents.”

“We don’t have anything definite to tell them,” Patrick said, his voice wavering slightly as the words came out in halting phrases. 

“You are  _ definitely  _ in the hospital.”

“There’s nothing they can do from home but worry.”

Patrick closed his eyes and David watched as Patrick seemed to curl in on himself even further. He was already trapped with the terrible task of having to force-feed Patrick a disgusting drink. He needed something to distract them. 

“I know this sucks but let’s stream something and you’ll be through this before you know it. Can I—would you mind if I got in the bed with you?”

Patrick opened one eye and something akin to hope glinted in it. “Would you?” 

“Yeah. I’m going to need you to let go of my hand now though.”

After removing his hand from Patrick’s, David went through the process of setting up the rolling table so that it would be within Patrick’s range of vision. He grabbed the bag Alexis had shoved at him when she had come back from parking the car to pull out Patrick’s phone and found that Alexis had put in their tablet and a fucking Bluetooth speaker. Blinking back tears because his sister was somehow a fucking genius, David quickly paired the devices and pulled up what he knew would be a particular treat. He forced himself to pull fully back together, knowing there would be time enough to be a mess later. 

As the opening bars of The Sound of Music filled the room, David headed around the gurney trying not to bump into it to jar Patrick at all. Fitting two grown ass men in one fucking twin bed wasn’t easy in the best of times, and this was  _ not  _ the best of times. The only good thing was that Patrick had rolled so far to the left side of the bed to be near where David was sitting that there was some space. 

David stares at the blank space for a few moments, lips pursed, trying to figure out how he was going to make himself small enough to fit in the empty space without causing Patrick any pain. In the end, he thought small thoughts and only half regretted the double serving of ice cream he had eaten last night as he eased onto the bed. 

Patrick only let out a small groan as David laid his front along Patrick’s back. 

“Sorry,” David breathed out, afraid to move.

“No, this is—this is better,” Patrick ground out, and David thought his breathing sounded marginally better. 

“Yeah?”

“Mmm. Feels right.”

David reached carefully over Patrick’s right side and carefully picked up the cup with the contrast solution. He was proud of not fucking up the lid and spilling it everywhere and brought it around in front of Patrick’s face. “Sip.”

Patrick did as he was told with minor fussing, and settled further back against David’s body. David felt a tear slip down his face, grateful that Patrick couldn’t see him. 

They continued on through the problem of Maria and children thinking being sixteen was grown up and lists of favorite things in the same way, with David forcing Patrick to take another sip and then distracting him with the movie on the screen. Patrick even hummed along with some of the songs, which made David's heart do a happy flop. 

The cup was almost done as the movie came hurtling towards the climax, and David was about to force another sip on Patrick when he realized a second, quiet, wobbly voice joined the captains. 

“For here you are, standing there loving me, whether or not you should.” 

David froze as both The Captain and Patrick sang the song. The song had always made him feel vaguely uncomfortable and if he was honest, it was because he had often worried that he, unlike Maria, had never had a moment of goodness that love could come out of for him as an adult. Now, the words hit too close to home. 

Because Patrick did fucking love him, and David often wondered why the fuck someone so wonderful would love a broken thing as much as Patrick loved him. 

“So somewhere in my youth,” Patrick continued with Maria, his voice a faint whisper. “or childhood, I must have done something good.”

David felt the knot in his chest tighten and tears welled in his eyes as the scene continued with The Captain and Maria curled against each other in the dark of the gazebo. He was not going to cry, even if this scene had always made him cry. He was not going to let all the feelings of the day overwhelm him. He needed to be strong for Patrick, who David had never actually seen so vulnerable. 

“Nothing comes from nothing. Nothing ever could. So somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good.”

“Fuck!” David sobbed softly, the tears spilling down his cheeks. 

“You crying?” Patrick asked and the amusement in his voice was clear.

“It’s a beautiful fucking moment, okay?” David insisted.

“Sip,” Patrick reminded him quietly. 

“ _ Fuck. Shit _ . I have a job.” David took the cup from where he had balanced it on the bed and lifted it to Patrick’s lips. 

“Ugh,” Patrick shuddered and groaned after the sip. David’s brows drew together as Patrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and another out. “Okay. Okay. I can do this.”

“You can.”

“You know, I think I know my next song for open mic night.”

David dabbed at the tears with the edge of a sweatshirt that cost more than Patrick’s couch “You just want to make me cry in public.”

“I already have our wedding for that. This is a bonus.” David pressed another kiss to the back of Patrick’s head and settled back down behind him.

By the time the Von Trapps escaped over the Alps, the contrast solution had been consumed. David placed the empty cup beside the tablet and had taken to stroking his fingers softly down Patrick’s arm. When the credits rolled, David paused in his ministrations to reach for the tablet.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t stop. I…” Patrick trailed off, swallowing convulsively three times, and David recognized the tell-tale signs of nausea. “it’s helping, please.”

“I…” David wanted to argue that the movie had helped and that Patrick hadn’t complained once. Instead he said, “Okay.”

He lay back down beside Patrick and went back to carefully trailing his fingernails up and down Patrick’s arm, over the fabric of the hospital gown and down over Patrick’s skin where it peeked out. David listened to Patrick even out his breaths, even if they were still shallow. 

David whispered, “How are we doing on the pain scale?”

“Twelve,” Patrick whispered back. 

“I thought—“

“The movie helps. This helps. It’s just—I—ffff, Mmm. I feel even more full and nauseous and there’s this metallic taste in my mouth and it—“

“Hey. Hey.” David pressed a kiss to Patrick’s shoulder where the hospital gown was slipping. “I know.”

“You can’t,” Patrick returned morosely, “It’s awful.”

“Well, I know it’s not the same, but—“

David was cut off as a nurse and another attendant came into the room and looked at the pair of them curled up on the bed. David shot her a defensive glare. If he wanted to be on the goddamn bed with his fucking fiancé because no one here seemed to want to give Patrick any meds for relief so David had to go overboard on the comfort, then that was what had to happen. 

“Can we help you?” David asked, his voice prickly.

“We are here to take Mr. Brewer to his CT scan.”

David clambered awkwardly off the bed and closed his eyes against Patrick’s whimper as he left. He kept his eyes downcast rather than look at the nurse and turned to fuss at the covers on Patrick’s gurney that he had rumpled. Patrick’s hand reached out and David couldn’t help but grab it, even if he knew they were taking him. 

The attendants bustled around them, but David kept his eyes on Patrick. The wheels clicked as they unlocked. “We’ll have Mr. Brewer back within the hour. You can wait here.”

“David?” Patrick asked, a quiet plea in his voice. 

“Hey,” David assured Patrick, walking along as the gurney started moving. “you’re going to go and come right back. I’ll be right here.”

“I want—“

“You’ve got me.” He was glad he didn’t let Patrick finish the request for David not to leave his side. If the words had actually left Patrick’s lips, David probably would have gone and tried to crawl into the CT machine with Patrick. “They just need to borrow you for a minute,” he said, as much for himself as Patrick

They got to the curtain edge and David untangled his fingers from Patrick’s and let his hand slip from David’s own. David lifted his shaky hands and wrapped them around his middle. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are turning a corner! You've made it past the halfway point and our actual physical pain threshold will be going down from here. Go you! We're now getting into David's emotions. YAAAAYYY! (It's what you've been waiting for).
> 
> Thanks to TINN and RQ for the amazing beta, making me make this the best chapter I could make it. All errors are mine.

Patrick had been gone five minutes by the time David ran out of things to do. He had texted Alexis an update, had thrown away the plastic cup, and gone through the bag Alexis had thought to pack and ravenously consumed a granola bar and a pack of jerky that David couldn’t remember purchasing and scared the fuck out of himself as he scrolled through internet search results of the word appendicitis. The room was small and there was only so much pacing David could do trying to find anything to avoid paying attention to the hole where Patrick should have been. 

He wasn’t sure what made his mind spiral to terrible places but the empty space kept speaking to him as a terrible omen. David checked his phone again and found nothing. Still, his finger hovered over Stevie’s name. He clicked and looked over their last set of their messages about his father’s latest plan to streamline the two hotels. Her sign off of _best wishes_ stared back at him.

David flinched and then typed out a quick message detailing where he was and why and clicked send. David began to pace while checking his phone for a reply from Steviet every five seconds, to see if somehow the notification of her response hadn’t come through. David felt irrationally jealous of whatever plans that had Stevie so occupied that she couldn’t respond to him. He wanted her to distract him from all of his racing thoughts.

After the fifteenth time of forcing himself away from the chat with unresponsive Stevie, he opened Words with Friends 2. The notifications showed it was his turn to play against several people, but one name in particular stood out as if highlighted in neon: **Marcy Brewer**. 

_Fuck._

Patrick had explicitly said _not_ to call his mother. He didn’t want to bother his parents with unanswered questions about an illness the doctors at the hospital had yet to diagnose. David didn’t want to summon them to Schitt’s Creek again, especially after Patrick had asked him to hold off. They looked at their only child like he hung the fucking moon whether he was coming out to them, or up on stage in eyeliner and garters, or grabbing David’s hand to share the news that he was engaged and had never been happier. The Brewers deserved to know. 

Since that fateful day of discovering that their son was very much in a _romantic_ relationship with the man the Brewers had thought was just his _business_ partner, Marcy and Clint had done just about everything to get to know him beyond the confines of the store. Marcy had promised to stay in touch as they’d left, and David had whispered to them about the performances coming up that they needed to be back for. 

Marcy shared David’s affinity for House Hunters and cooking competitions and would text her about episodes from time to time. They had come to play stupid online games they both enjoyed. David was the one Marcy called with questions about the wedding because she claimed Patrick had his father’s taste in most things, which was lovely when you wanted a grilled steak, but weddings were a little something extra. Her number was one of the first contacts in his recent calls. Forcing down thoughts of Patrick being disappointed that he bothered her, David pressed her number to call.

Of course, Marcy Brewer picked up her phone early on the second ring. Her voice was warm and soothing and David found tears pricking at his eyes. “David, what a pleasant surprise. We just heard from you yesterday. Things for the wedding are still going smoothly?” David could make out the light clatter of dishes in the background.

“Oh, the wedding— “ David stumbled, unable to pivot his train of thought to the wedding from the constant mental revision happening in his head. His brain was spinning, trying to clearly express that Patrick was in the hospital without causing undue panic. Still, he should answer the question. “The wedding is—everything is on track—with that. With the wedding, that is.”

“David,” she asked, in the same quiet voice she had used when David had come with a gift basket, “is something else not on track?”

The hysterical laughter wanted to bubble up on that question, because nothing about today was remotely on track. David forced it down ruthlessly in the same way he had learned when he was dealing with Alexis’s problems at the age of sixteen. 

“Umm, so, I Umm.” David threw his head back, eyes closed and his face scrunched up as he sought out the word. “I don’t want you to worry, like too much, but I thought you should know that I had to bring Patrick to the hospital and I—he’s going to be fine. He didn’t even want me to call you but I—I, Uh...”

David tried sucking in a breath. Everything felt hot and awful. If he didn’t know any better, he would think he was having a myocardial infarction, but he was fairly certain this was just a fucking panic attack trying to bubble up. David did not have _time_ for panic attacks or feeling like he was the one dying when Patrick was actually sick and in pain. The effort was futile, because without Patrick here to focus on, without a task to do, David could just feel all the pressure coming down on his chest. 

Marcy was still ridiculously calm as she said, “David, honey, I need you to take two deep breaths for me.”

“I—“ David gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“In through the nose. Close your eyes if you have to. I am going to count you up okay.”

The whole thing was ridiculous. David had been calm and in control all day. He was the one calling to tell Marcy that her son was in the hospital and it was absurd that now he needed her to tell him to close his eyes and breathe. At the count of four, he held his breath for the two beats as she asked him to, and breathed out as she counted him down. 

After they had completed the pattern for a second time, Mrs. Brewer calmly said, “Tell me what happened, David, from the beginning.”

Daivd kept his eyes closed and refused to look around the room that was full of medical supplies but no Patrick. “Okay, so Patrick wasn’t feeling well- we thought it was just some bad food, I mean we are far enough from the coast we probably shouldn’t be eating sushi, but he got worse and was in a lot of pain. _Is_ in a lot of pain. They’re taking him for scans now.”

“X-Ray, CT, MRI?” Marcy fired off, and he could hear her scratching out words on paper as she talked.

“CT,” David answered, “They made him drink something first.”

He heard her murmur something that sounded like contrast fluid. “Okay, David. Do they have a theory of what they think it is? What other symptoms does he have? You said you thought it was something he ate earlier?”

“Yeah. Umm, sorry.” He shook his head, mad that he wasn’t able to do this in a clear manner for her. “Low fever, stomach pains, nausea, he threw up a few times and uh, they think it might be his appendix.”

“Did they say if he has and rebound tenderness or guarding?”

“Yes. Both.”

“Sounds like his appendix.” Marcy’s voice was still steadily calm and David wondered if it was the nurse in her that allowed her to keep her cool or if she was just able to file things away neatly all the time. “Clint is already looking at flights.”

David winced. This was exactly what Patrick hadn’t wanted to happen. Stubborn as Patrick was, taking care of his parents was a top priority. David was pretty sure that if they lived closer, Patrick would go out every Sunday to mow their lawn even though Clint was more than capable. 

His hand waved at the air dismissively as David tried to reason with her. “We don’t want you to feel like you have to. I know you’re coming out again in a few weeks.”

“David,” Marcy began, her voice soothing, “We have plenty of time off and you and Patrick can’t afford to keep the store closed for the entire time it will take him to recover.”

“Okay,” David’s head bobbled back and forth in agreement. She wasn’t wrong. They were going to need the help, especially considering the spreadsheets were closing in on the payment due dates when things would flip to red. He let out a watery laugh before telling her, “I am going to tell him I told you not to come.”

Marcy laughed back and the world didn’t quite feel like it was ending anymore. “You can tell him I called you if you need to. Thank you for taking such good care of my boy.”

“He uh, he asked for you,” David told her, feeling like he was breaking Patrick’s confidence a little. Ultimately, he couldn’t leave her with the idea that Patrick had not wanted them to come at all. “But he also didn’t want to bother you.”

Her chuckle sounded just like her son’s and David let it seep into his bones. “I’m surprised you got him to the hospital. Clint took off the tip of his finger once with a buzz saw and thought I should be able to attach it at home.”

David’s eyes popped open and his free hand came up to rest on his cheek. “Oh god.” No wonder the words ‘I’m fine’ rolled so easily off of Patrick’s tongue. 

“I love you, David. I’ll text you when we have more details on our end.”

“Okay. I, uh, I…” He couldn’t make himself force out the words back to Marcy, even though he felt them. “Thank you.”

“See you soon, David.”

David hung up the phone and stared at it. If the situations were reversed, his own mother would have railed and raged on the phone, all of her emotions pouring out of her and coming off as insincere when she was anything but. David wouldn’t have wanted to see his mother until things were over and would have told Patrick so. Marcy Brewer had been calm and controlled, even though he had told her that her only son was in pain and would likely have surgery. She was getting on a flight, they would see him soon. 

_Fuck._

David forced himself to sit rather than slip back into the panic attack that was waiting for him because Patrick was out of sight. He poked through a variety of different games on his phone, none lasting longer than a round or two. 

Finally, his phone chimed and David instantly opened it, relieved to see a text from Stevie. Fucking finally. 

**Stevie:** shit. you need anything

David glanced around the hollow space, there were a million things that he could ask for, but none of them were what he really wanted. He decided to deflect rather than dive fully into his feelings and typed quickly. 

**David:** a bottle of vodka and a straw

His hand began to flutter next to him, beating out a hummingbird heartbeat against his knee, watching as the dots began to show up.

**Stevie:** don’t think hospitals approve of that 

**David:** a real friend would find a way

At this point, David would take the cheap beer in a funnel Stevie had made him have the first time he had ever gone to a party in this town. Or some pot. Really anything that would allow him to take a few steps back from his feelings that kept bubbling up like an underground spring. He watched the three dots in the bubble turn into words.

**Stevie:** a real friend makes sure someone doesn’t get kicked out of the hospital

**David:** they can’t do that

im his person

**Stevie:** which is why i wont be bringing you booze

do you want me to come

David typed a quick yes. His finger hovered over send before dropping back to delete the message. As much as he wanted Stevie to be here, he wasn’t sure he would even see her. Doctors weren’t just giving free passes to let people wander the hospital at will. Nurse Ratchet on desk duty certainly wouldn’t be allowing anyone past her. Instead, David sent a few texts in a rapid burst.

**David** : no 

nothing to do now but wait 

we haven’t even made it out of the ER bay 

no one else is really allowed back here

The overwhelming helplessness of having nothing concrete to do was going to drive him insane. They were trapped in this holding pattern and there wasn’t anything David could do about it. He didn’t want to continue to hyperfocus, it would only serve to drive him insane. A thought crossed his mind and he smirked as he typed his next message.

**David** : greys anatomy paints a very different picture of hospital life

**Stevie:** no fantasy ghost bangs in the supply closet

David barked out a laugh that sounded closer to a sob and brought his hand up to cover his mouth. David kept the large smile while he tapped out a return message. 

**David:** sadly that would be inappropriate 

He looked up and glanced around the room. It also did not look quite as fancy as the hospital on Grey’s always looked. David was certain they didn’t use sheets on the beds with a thread count under 300 in the show. 

**Stevie:** no hostage situations

**David:** only if you count nurse ratchet at the front desk

**Stevie:** youve met all the surgeons

**David:** sadly none

**Stevie:** :(

**David:** if you find a joint under any beds save it for me

**Stevie:** always 

David nodded, even though Stevie couldn’t see and kept flexing his lips between his teeth and back out. A fluttering hit him in the chest and he wished he could close his eyes and manifest Stevie next to him so she could just bother him forever. 

As he couldn’t, he sent her a series of halting texts.

**David:** also

could you just

text every so often

so i don’t go crazy 

**Stevie:** 100

David fiddled around on his phone, played back with Marcy on Words with Friends. He moved on to sudoku, which normally when he played, Patrick would glance over his shoulder and make comments and poke at numbers with fingers David would bat away. What he hadn’t realized was how much help he actually got from Patrick’s annoying interference. 

In the end, he found himself sitting playing with his rings. The harsh fluorescent lights created sharp highlights as David arranged and rearranged his rings, from finger to finger, creating double stacked rings on his index and ring fingers and then spreading them out slowly over each finger so that they ran along his whole hand like a golden river. 

Once upon a time, David would have insisted on being the one to pick out his own ring or rings, and never would have trusted a partner to do it. Hell, had he known Patrick had planned to propose so soon he would have at least made a small lookbook of acceptable options. Despite the handful of conversations about their future together, David had assumed marriage was still a long way off. He’d never thought he needed to be so prepared for their future when Patrick had proposed; they hadn’t even been living together. 

But in the end, Patrick hadn’t needed a lookbook or for David to pick out a ring. Somehow, Patrick had understood that David’s rings were a part of how he guarded himself against the world when everything seemed to be too much. He had given David a set of golden rings that not only acted as a part of his armor but were also a constant reminder he wasn’t alone, wrapped in Patrick’s love. 

The noise of clattering wheels made David startle and look up from all the ring adjusting. He shot out of the chair and was met with , the nurse smiling as they wheeled Patrick in using the bar at the back. Relief flooded David at the sight of Patrick returning and he was able to file away his worry that Patrick wasn’t coming back when they took him away.

A lifetime of Grey’s Anatomy, ER and a childhood passion for squirreled-away Lurlene McDaniels books had only prepared him for the devastatingly worst outcome. David knew deep down they probably weren’t staring down cancer and this wasn’t a massively traumatic injury. David might have looked up the statistics on appendicitis, and one out of every 2000 people was a lot of people. Most people were fine. Patrick was going to be fine. 

“Someone did great.” The nurse chirped, giving David a big smile. “We just had to do a little clean up after.”

Patrick’s face was set with a tight jaw and closed eyes and David was fairly certain if his fiancé was ever going to give someone the middle finger it might be this overly cheery nurse. David had a pretty clear idea of what she meant and didn’t need details. As it was, he could see a slight tremor running though Patrick’s body despite how much he fought to remain still. 

David moved to the side of the gurney when the nurse locked it in place and took Patrick’s hand in his own. Patrick didn’t open his eyes but he held on tight. For David, it was enough. He gave a squeeze before turning his eyes back onto the nurse.

“Now that we have done the tests, any word on that pain medication?” David asked, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “It’s been hours and he’s in a lot of pain.”

The nurse remained unphased, but smiled at him kindly. David didn’t want kind, he wanted results. “The doctor will be with you shortly with the result of the scans. They will discuss medication and next steps with you then.”

The smile David plastered on his face was one saved for moments such as this. “ _Thanks so much.”_

When the nurse headed back out and pulled the curtain, David ran his free hand over Patrick’s hair. “So, you survived.”

Patrick’s face transformed into a grimace. A dry tongue came to lick at his lips, which were looking cracked. Alexis had not thrown the correct set of skincare products into the bag for David to deal with this problem. 

“What no one tells you,” Patrick practically croaked, his voice rough and cracking, “is the metal donut they put you in makes the taste in your mouth worse when it runs.”

David continued his stroking of Patrick’s hair. He shook his head to clear the image of Patrick alone and upset inside the machine, which he had also googled after getting off the phone with Marcy. “Well, it’s done and you don’t ever have to do it again. Let’s set up another movie while we wait.”

“Is it a Sandra Bullock movie?” 

David allowed his lips to curl up slightly. “No. Someone is sick and they get movie picking rights. However,” David told him, leaning over to press a kiss to Patrick’s forehead, forcing himself to ignore the sheen of sweat. “I already picked for you.”

Patrick’s lips twitched. Amusement mixed into his pained voice as he said, “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Mm,” David said, moving the table so it now hovered over the bed. “It is, when you know someone well enough to pick the movie. You could pick a movie for me.”

“Would I, though?” Patrick asked and David was certain that he must be feeling slightly better. 

Patrick still hadn’t opened his eyes when David pressed play on the tablet. The prelude to Mary Poppins began to fill the small space through the Bluetooth speaker. Patrick’s lips curled into a smile in less than two bars of the overture coming through. 

“Julie Andrews vehicles are also correct,”’ David whispered. 

“Thank you,” Patrick returned, almost inaudible, but the relief that was held inside those two words struck right at David’s heart. 

David shook his head at the thanks he was pretty sure he didn’t deserve. “Any time.”

David arranged himself so he was sitting on the bed again, angling his legs off the edge so as not to take up too much space. Patrick curled into his side, not unlike a puppy. David accepted the weight and enjoyed the steady puff of Patrick’s breath against his side. 

Dr. Stevens swung in again, files held between her dark brown hands and looked over at the pair of them curled up on the gurney. “Hello. I see we have made ourselves comfortable.”

“Well, in lieu of proper medication, we are using alternative methods,” David ground out, unwilling to feel embarrassed this time. “Do you have a diagnosis?”

She flipped open the chart in her hands and flipped through a few pages before looking back at them, her calm demeanor never wavering. “Yes, the images from the CT scan clearly shows an enlarged appendix. I can safely confirm appendicitis as a diagnosis.” 

“Thank _fucking_ God,” David muttered not-quite-under his breath. 

“You’re very lucky you came in so early,” the doctor continued as if David hadn’t said anything, “Your inflammation isn’t as bad as it could have been. We are going to get you some fluids and pain medication and you’ll be put on the list for surgery first thing in the morning.” She looked directly at David, her tone never changing, as she said, “I’ve already put in the order for morphine.”

“Isn’t appendicitis an emergency?” David asked the doctor sharply, ignoring that he’d finally managed to secure medication. 

“It is, which is why he’s on the slate,” Dr. Stevens answered, unfailingly pleasantly. “but Patrick’s appendix does not appear to be in danger of bursting just yet.”

“Doesn’t _appear_ to?” David continued, “But it _could_?”

“David,” Patrick said quietly, his hand coming up to rest on David’s arm, which was more motion than David had seen from Patrick in hours. “She’s the doctor.”

“I know that. But _appear_ isn’t reassuring,” David hissed back.

“I understand you’re concerned,” “and you should be, but we will continue to monitor his condition.”

“Okay, but a sign of a rupture is the pain disappearing, right, so medicated, how would we know?” David asked. Within two seconds of silence, he realized what his first statement sounded like and quickly amended, “It should be noted that I still want him medicated.”

“The morphine is going to take the edge off the pain, but there will likely be an underlying discomfort. If that goes away, we should be informed immediately. Also, his symptoms will eventually worsen.” Dr. Stevens looked into the file again. “The onset of symptoms was this morning?”

“Yes,” David agreed, rubbing his thumb over the back of Patrick’s hand. 

“Only two percent of all cases of appendicitis burst within the first 36 hours. You’ve made it twelve hours.”

“Alright. What about the surgery itself? How long does it take? Are you the one performing it?”

“We have gastrointestinal surgeons who would be performing the surgery. We are going to get you moved to a room on the surgical floor and the doctor will meet with you there.”

“Excellent.”

A nurse bustled in with a bag of fluids and some vials of medicine. David bit down on his sarcastic comments about the length of time they had been waiting. Instead he gave the nurse a smile. Within moments, she’d slid the IV into Patrick’s hand and taped it down. She added morphine to the drip and was gone as quickly as she had come like a drug fairy. 

David clicked play on Mary Poppins and let the sounds of Jolly Holiday fill the space. Patrick curled back into David’s side, his right hand remained on the bed, tethered to the IV bag. By the time they got to Super-Cali-fragil-istic-expi-Ali-docious, Patrick’s breathing evened out and the little grinds of pain had subsided. By Stay Awake, Patrick followed the Banks children into slumber as well. 

David took a moment to text the Brewers the official diagnosis and that Patrick was scheduled for surgery first thing in the morning. After making sure the flash was already off, David took a quick picture of Patrick asleep, his face more relaxed than he’s been all day, and sent it along as well. He got a text back that there is a flight that leaves in an hour that they’ve already booked and will be in Schitt’s Creek within the next four. He texted Stevie to fill her in and asked her to reserve the Brewers a hotel room and if she could pick them up at the airport. 

The last text is for Alexis, from whom he had already received another text asking for an update. She sends back _let me know when you have a room_. David just sent her a 100. 

From there on out, it was mostly David staring at Patrick while he sleeps. He hadn’t realized until he took the picture to send to Marcy how much pain was etched across Patrick’s face in deep lines today. Now, in sleep, he was more than relaxed and bordering on vulnerable and looked so incredibly young. 

An hour later, they’re moved up to a private room and David hoped it was because his primary concern was Patrick and he would take care of him in any way necessary, even if it meant disturbing the neighbors. Patrick somehow slept through the transfer, the only sign of disturbance the occasional frown flitting across his face. 

A soft knock came as the door opened which was really not how knocks were supposed to work, except that was exactly how Ray did things. Did someone tell Ray? David did _not_ need that right now. 

Instead, his sister’s blond head poked around the door. “David?” she asked softly, creeping into the room.

Ted slid in behind her, carrying a large insulated lunch sack. “Hey, bud.”

David blinked, trying to align their appearance with this weird hospital world that had shrunk since they had left the waiting room to Patrick, David and whatever medical personnel were running through. Even with Alexis texting him for updates, he had never thought she was still here at the hospital. “Uh, you’re still here.”

Her lips turned into an exaggerated pout. Her hands began fluttering around at the wrists, flicking her hair at various turns. “Uh, _yeah_ David. What was I going to do, _leave_ you here _alone_ ?” Alexis whispered, bouncing in place and actually keeping her voice to a whisper. His brain supplied the answer to her question, a resounding _yes_. At one time, his sister would have fled at the first sign of trouble. 

Alexis didn't seem bothered by his silence and snuck a look at the bed. His sister’s expressive face fell into a frown as she looked back at David. “Poor button. Ted brought you dinner.”

Ted handed over the insulated lunch bag that a man who lived just above his job had no business having. The person who usually made David stop and eat when he hyper-focused (which was rare because his stomach was a bossy bitch) was Patrick. Instead, Alexis had thought to ask Ted to bring David food.

“Just a sandwich,” Ted whispered, shuffling slightly and half ducked behind Alexis. “Two sandwiches really. Didn’t want anything that would go bad, didn’t know how long the wait would be. Figured you’d be hungry. There’s a few other things.”

“At least he’s going to be okay, right, David? I mean they know what it is. That’s good. I mean, it could be worse, David. Anyways, let us know when they bring him in for surgery. Ted got us a hotel room, and like, I am tempted to bring you with us so you’d actually sleep because you’re useless when you’re tired and you get those really terrible bags, but like, I know you won’t leave him.”

David couldn’t quite bring himself to process that ramble, but instead focused on Alexis slipping her hand into Ted’s and holding it tight. 

“Ugh, David.” One of her little t-rex hands shot out and hit him softly on the shoulder. “You’ll tell us when they take him in for surgery?”

David just nodded, cringing as he pulled out of range and said, “Okay.”

“OH!” Alexis blinked, an apologetic smile on her face. “I did a little wedding work while I waited. I figured, I mean...you don’t have to go with any of it, David, I just had a lot of time, so. You can check your tablet in the bag if you want to.” 

  
Alexis pressed a kiss to his cheek and Ted gave him an awkward hug before they slipped out of the room, though still not the most awkward hug they had shared. He looked down at the bag of food in his hands, still unsure what had happened. Somewhere over the years, his baby sister, the person David waited up nights for and swooped in to save, had become someone who he could depend on in all situations. Well, not to watch his store or his tamagotchis, clearly. But in an emergency, here she was, dragging Ted along with her. David opened the zipper on the bag carefully and pulled out a sandwich, which had a note attached to it. _Hang in there, bud. You’re not always the burnt marshmallow._ David tucked the note back into the bag and took a bite of the sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and sweet, sweet comments. I love every last one of them and they make posting every chapter all the sweeter. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr under the same username!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter! Thanks for hanging in there with me! Things are definitely easing up. This chapter does have mentions of surgery and a character on anesthesia. Hoping to have this wrapped up before the long weekend is over. 
> 
> Thanks, once again, to TINN and RQ for keeping me together and taking this chapter from a disaster to something presentable. Bless you, both. And thank you to everyone whose given kudos, comments and encouragement throughout this process.

There was only so long one could sit and stare at someone who was unconscious, even if you loved them more than you had ever realized was possible. David polished off both sandwiches and the bag of chips in short order, grateful that Ted actually knew what the fuck he was doing. Alexis wouldn’t die of starvation. At first, David worked on making himself comfortable trying not to be weirded out by the semi-silence that was punctuated by hospital noises from the hallway. He turned on the TV and found one of Patrick’s favorite insomnia cures, Blue Planet, and let David Attenborough narrate in the background, drowning out the weird sounds and making him feel more at home. 

David knew he wouldn’t sleep, even with the soothing British voice going on about kelp forests in the background. He needed something to do besides wait until dawn and watch a tiny trail of salvia make it’s way from Patrick’s mouth to the pillow like a snail. 

Somewhere around midnight, Alexis’s words about doing wedding work reverberated in David’s head. He pulled out the tablet to see what destruction his sister had caused in the wake of his preoccupation. Clicking through, he pulled up the shared sheets that Patrick had carefully formatted so they were clean and easy to follow. 

_ It’s why you hired me, David, because I knew how to work the numbers. It’s literally the least I could do for our wedding planning. _

David had tilted his head to the side, remembering when Patrick had entered the store with the idea to join the business. David had taken Patrick’s hand before he could leave to start on the wedding spreadsheets and told him that he hadn’t hired Patrick purely for his business sense. He had been attracted to the audacity of the man to basically hire himself, brimming with confidence and a level of expertise in business that David had never mastered after all the galleries he had run. He had been incredibly attracted to the phrase  _ oh I’m gonna get the money. _ It still sent a shiver down his spine. 

Alexis had sent out reminders to guests who hadn’t RSVPed yet and put little red boxes around their names. She had also gone through the pivot table that Patrick had created, looking at the percentages of completeness across various sectors. Alexis had flagged an email in the wedding@roseapothacary.com account for him, of projected flower options they would have from the local wildflower farm. Alexis had started a draft email with her preferred choices and David clicked through the photos, approving the ones that were done with large collections of Queen Anne’s Lace, white foxglove and dotted with asters and bachelor buttons. 

David saw they had a final check in with the caterer scheduled in two days that he needed to push back and fired off a quick email. He made a note in the To Do lists to look into rescheduling Patrick’s suit fittings. 

The nurse had introduced themselves as Dom, their hair piled in carefully coiled dreads and a warm smile. They would be with David and Patrick for the entire evening. Dom was calm and friendly and always apologized for disturbing their rest, as if David was actually getting any. David liked the Dom and the way they explained everything carefully and in simple terms before doing anything. 

  
The second time they entered the room, Dom placed a hand on David’s shoulder while he scrolled through fairy lights on the internet, startling him slightly. “David, if you want, I can get you a cot.”

David folded the cover on the tablet while he gathered himself. “I...no,” David shook his head, trying to think around the fog that was wrapping around his brain. “That’s okay. I—If he needs me, I’d rather—” David gestured to Patrick asleep in the bed instead of finishing his thought:  _ he’d rather be right within touching range _ . His hands always found their way to Patrick and David wasn’t sure he could bear it if Patrick couldn’t do the same. 

Dom’s smile was kind and slow, and David was grateful that they were the nurse that had been assigned to Patrick. “I just thought I would offer.”

“Thank you.”

They gave a warm smile and said, “I’ll be back in a few hours. Try to get some rest.” Then they slid out of the room quietly.

David put down the tablet because Two AM was only for  _ regretful dalliances or rejuvenating repose _ . David pillowed his head and arms on the bed by Patrick’s head and tried to keep his eyes open. Patrick’s face in the emergency lights of the hospital room looked much younger than he usually did and incredibly vulnerable. In a few short weeks, Patrick was going to be his husband. It still filled David with wonder that Patrick had chosen to be with him,  _ permanently. _ That someone who was so good and kind and thoughtful had it in them to not only love David but to be with him for a lifetime.

Since he had accepted Patrick’s engagement rings, David had been so focused on their wedding and making it perfect that he had occasionally steamrolled over Patrick, yelled at his sister and generally harassed Stevie about her responsibilities in the wedding. With Patrick lying in a hospital bed, it all seemed foolish. Of course David still wanted his big day, but all he wanted was to be with this man. He fell asleep with images of putting together the new apartment they had scoped out that had two step-in closets and actual walls on the bedroom. 

Pained moaning startled David awake and he popped up from the bed with a stuttering start. Everything was stiff from sleeping upright and David had to crack his neck to feel anything. Patrick’s face was drawn with pain and bleached of color. David reached out and began massaging his fingers against Patrick’s shoulder. “Hey, hey. Patrick.”

“Hey,” Patrick blinked his eyes open and winced. “I think the drugs wore off.”

“I’ll call someone.”  David reached up to hit the call button above Patrick’s head. 

“I don’t want to bother—“ Patrick began his hand sluggishly trying to intercept David’s on the way to the button, but didn’t reach it in time. Patrick gave him a pathetic glare. 

David pursed his lips and tilted his head, and continued his gentle stroking of Patrick’s shoulder. He would be the person who thought paging someone at work was bothering them. David watched another wave of pain flash across Patrick’s face before he quietly said, “Patrick, they work the night shift. It’s their job.”

“Mm.”

Blessedly, it was Dom who swung in, their angel of mercy. They had a smile on their face. “You paged?” 

“The pain meds wore off,” David said flatly, before Patrick could try and minimize what was happening. 

“Oh, we can take care of that. Let me go grab them and we’ll get your next round of vitals done early and you can get some more sleep.”

“Mmm,” David agreed, as if he was going to actually get anything resembling real sleep. 

Patrick attempted a smile and whispered, “Thank you.”

Still touching Patrick, David picked up his phone and saw that he had several unread texts. Stevie had sent one that said  **got em** , and there was a very long one from Clint saying they had arrived and that they wanted to know as soon as David knew anything more than he already did. Another was from Alexis reminding him to sleep so he could function in the morning. 

Once Dom came back, they pushed the medicine in and asked Patrick questions about his pain levels and location. David sent a thank you to Stevie and a scheduled surgery time to the Brewers. David kept petting Patrick until his breathing evened back out, falling back into sleep. David tangled his fingers in the edge of Patrick’s hospital johnny and tried to fall asleep again.

At six in the morning, the snowy haired surgeon who looked nothing like any of the Dreamies entered with barely a knock. He was gruff and older and David was somewhere between liking him and worrying that he was too old and too abrasive. David asked a million questions about the surgery that he had gleaned off of numerous internet searches. Why did the doctor think laparoscopic was the best surgery to go with today? Where would the incision points be? How long is it going to take? How many appendectomies have you done? How many patients have you lost? What is the typical recovery period? How frequent are complications? What type of anesthesiology would they be using?

“If that’s all your questions,” Dr. Reiner paused, his voice tired. David moved to ask another question, but Patrick’s hand came to rest on his arm and David snapped his mouth shut and began to swallow his anxiety down. Dr. Reiner looked relieved. “I have to go prepare. A nurse will be with you shortly to take Mr. Brewer to pre-op. We will just need you to sign off on the consent forms and we will be ready to go.”

David was still chewing on his lips while the doctor made his way out of the room. A fwapping noise kept floating to David’s ears and it took several moments before he realized it was the collection of papers in his hands that he was tapping against his knee. He forced himself to stop, tapping the set of papers on the table. 

He could feel his nerves bubbling up. Per usual, David’s anxieties floated out in a barrage of words. “Do you want to go over the paperwork again? Maybe we missed something. Or, we could look up the doctor? They have websites where people rank the doctors and let you know how they do. We might have to ask about switching doctors.” 

“David, we’ve gone over all of it. He seems fine. Would you rather it be a young, hotshot surgeon, like on Grey’s?” Patrick asked, the teasing light visible in his eyes.

“None of the doctors here look like any of the ones on Grey’s,” David groused, not ready to be teased out of his mood.

“He’s done millions of these surgeries.”

“He said around a hundred a year.”

“See,” Patrick returned triumphantly, and David bit back from saying that even he knew that to get to a million from 100 a year you’d have to be doing surgery for 10,000 years. 

Patrick reached out his hand and David’s fingers fell between the strong, purposeful fingers of his fiance. Patrick’s face slid from victorious to serious. His voice was quiet and a little rough as he said, “David, I just need you to know- — ”

David closed his eyes and his fingers squeezed around Patrick’s hand. “Hey, no, I don’t — ”

Patrick’s smile bloomed again, bringing out the little dimple that David hadn’t seen in twenty-four hours. His voice was naked with love and affection as he continued. “I love you, beyond all reason. You being my ten o’clock, B13, was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.”

“B13?” David asked, the question erupting despite David’s irritation with Patrick’s maudlin pre-surgery declaration. 

“It was your ticket number, from Ray’s dispenser.”

David vaguely remembered Ray handing him a slip and just as quickly hollering something out while going back to taking some of the most cringey engagement photos David had ever seen. He’d barely looked at the ticket before Patrick had taken it from him. At least that’s how David remembered it. He couldn’t bring the number on the thin slip to mind.

“How the fuck do you remember that?”

“You have my wallet?” David nodded. Patrick just looked at him until David realized he was meant to go find it. David took his gaze off of Patrick and dove into the duffle bag. He pulled out the leather billfold and held it up for Patrick’s inspection. Patrick just pointed, “Open it. In with the bills.”

David flipped open the wallet and pried it open to look into the billfold. Tucked in on one side was a thin slip of paper. David pulled it out with shaking fingersThe writing had faded to grey and the paper was leaning towards translucent but it was still legible. B13 was carefully blocked on the paper.

His fingers shook slightly as he held the fragile piece of paper. David looked back up to Patrick and he was certain his face was a question.

Patrick gave him that soft smile that always made him swoopy inside. “It lived on my desk, in a little corner, until you agreed that if I got the grants I could work with you. I tucked it into my wallet that day. It’s lived there ever since.”

“Next to your ass cheek?” David quipped, rather than feel the full weight of what Patrick had confided in him.

“Asshole. I was going to give it to you, in a frame, for the wedding,” Patrick said, each phrase sounding deliberately distinct, “but you can have it now.”

David felt the smile fluttering on his face in time with heartbeat. He shook his head rather than let the tears gather. “No. I want you to hang on to it. I like that you keep it next to your ass.”

Patrick smiled, slow and lazy. “Okay, for now, I’ll hang onto it. Put it back in carefully and then I need to sign those consent forms.”

Once the paperwork was taken care of, David opened up sudoku on his phone and allowed Patrick to pretend that he was helping David instead of playing himself. David carefully went through number combinations and let Patrick point over his shoulder, occasionally clicking on buttons. Sometimes David would go for a number that he was fairly certain was wrong and would get tutted at. 

Dom showed up and they gave a quick smile. “Here to collect Mr. Brewer for surgery.”

Patrick took a breath in and his jaw did a little clench. David felt a skitter of worry as the possible complications of surgery ran through his head again, circling in on death as the last one. He placed it into a box out of his mind.

“Well, I suppose the only way to feel better is for this to come out,” Patrick said lightly, but the hand that gestured to his abdomen slid up and worried the edge of his ear.

“Hey,” David reminded him, affecting a lightness that he didn’t feel, “the best part is you’ll get another great nap out of it. And scars are hot.”

“One is going to be in my belly button, David. Are you going to go looking for that one?”

David leaned in and brushed noses with Patrick. “Maybe. You never know.”

“Alright, you two, time’s awastin’,” Dom called out, causing both David and Patrick to turn and look at them.

David turned back and left it a light, chaste kiss across Patrick’s lips. Patrick’s hand came up to cup the back of David’s neck, his thumb doing the light rub against the sensitive skin under David’s ear. When David went to pull back, Patrick held him fast, surprisingly strong for someone who had spent nearly an entire day in pain and was going for surgery.

“I would like a real kiss please,” Patrick whispered a hair’s breadth away from David’s lips “before someone takes a knife to my belly, please.”

David’s own stomach did a flip-flop at the words _ knife _ and  _ belly _ . He wrinkled his nose at Patrick. “You watch too many crime dramas.”

“You watch too many hospital shows. Real kiss, please,” Patrick tilted his head slightly for better kiss access. “You heard them, time’s awastin’.”

David kissed Patrick again, but this time he allowed himself to sink into it. Patrick’s hand pulled him closer, the thumb still working as Patrick parted his lips. David allowed himself to slip his tongue into Patrick’s mouth, despite the incorrectness of the move with an audience.

“Alright,” David gasped when he managed to pull back, resting his forehead against Patrick’s for a moment. “that’s—enough.”

Patrick’s thumb continued worrying against the tender spot behind David’s ear. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

David felt a stupid lump form in his throat. “No where else I would be.”

“Okay, David.” 

Patrick’s hand slid from the back of David’s neck and he felt the loss of contact acutely. David wanted to hold on to Patrick and not let go. Instead, he forced himself up straight as Dom clicked the bar on the back of the gurney. 

“Hey, don’t forget, we have a date in six weeks,” David called out to Patrick as he was being moved to the door. 

“No where else I would be,” Patrick echoed David’s promise. 

“I’ll be back to follow up with you once we get Patrick settled,” Dom told him. 

David allowed them to wheel Patrick out of the room and followed to the door to watch as they headed for pre-op. He only felt a little ache as they wheeled through the doors that opened automatically and Patrick disappeared to the other side. David forced a breath in through his nose and back out through his mouth as Dom headed back his way.

“Hey,” they said, coming up next to him. Thankfully, they didn’t reach out to touch him like so many people seemed to think was comforting. “So when it’s over he’s going to spend some time in post-op and then they’re going to move him to a real room, so you and I are going to head to the waiting room.”

David collected his duffle and Ted’s lunch bag and followed Dom into the hall. “So, he’s a good surgeon, Dr. Reiner?”

“The best. He comes off kind of rude but he takes care of his patients and they have some of the best outcomes. Patrick is in good hands, I promise.”

That did little to settle the nerves that kept skittering from David’s belly and through the rest of his body. He gave a decisive nod to Dom anyway. “Okay. Good.”

Dom gave him a smile that was meant to be encouraging and David wished these things worked for him. “Someone will come get you when it’s over. You shouldn’t worry.”

Because  _ not  _ worrying was that  _ easy _ . David bit his lower lip. “He said about two hours.”

“Depends how the surgery goes,” Dom said, and David’s head began nodding along with every word “how long it takes to get him under, how pronounced the appendix is, if anything is in the way. He’ll already be in post-op when they come to talk to you and then they probably won’t let you back until he wakes up.”

“Okay. I just—” David let out a shuddering sigh, trying to get himself back into control. “Thank you, for everything. It means—it means a lot.”

Dom just gave a smile. “It’s not a problem.”

David nodded and pushed through the waiting room door. David did not like waiting rooms, with the chairs weirdly interspersed and people taking up seats in weird configurations and you had to try and find yourself a space where strangers would not breathe on you or listen in on your conversations. David’s plan was to find himself a corner, put in the headphones that Alexis had packed for him and try and zone out until a doctor came to find him.

When he actually looked to find himself a seat, David stopped, startled. Alexis was standing there, smiling, with an entire corner of the waiting room rearranged to form a small sequestered pocket. Behind her, however, was Ted, Stevie and Patrick’s parents. For whatever reason, when he had texted everyone to let them know what time surgery would be, he hadn’t expected anyone to actually come and be here.

“David!” Alexis chirped, far too chipper for before eight AM. Her hands beckoned to him in a limp-wristed wave. “You look dreadful. Come here.”

David slowly made his way across the room, bags hanging by his sides. After hours of no sleep, his limbs had already felt heavy and useless, but somehow seeing everyone waiting for him made him feel relieved, grateful, and the full extent of his exhaustion from managing everything mostly on his own until now. He could acutely feel all the hours of sleep he hadn’t had and the aches from sleeping hunched over Patrick’s bed. He wanted to pass off all responsibility to the group of people who were just waiting for him. 

Stevie handed him a travel cup of coffee and then surprised him by wrapping her arms around his waist. “There’s whiskey in the coffee.”

“Bless you,” David whispered.

“Mom and Dad didn’t follow you?” He asked after a slightly burning sip slid down his throat. “I’m shocked you managed to escape their notice.”

“Oh, we avoided them like the plague.” Stevie threw him a grin. “I may have also checked the Brewers in under a fake name.” Stevie turned to the group at large. “I have sat in a hospital waiting room with Mrs. Rose once, and trust me when I say that Mr. and Mrs. Rose are best when everything is over.”

Marcy stepped forward, her arms open. “Oh, sweetheart.”

David returned the warm, maternal hug and felt a twinge of guilt for taking so much comfort from it. Tears burned at the edges of his eyes but he wasn’t going to let them fall. Still, his voice was too hoarse as he choked out, “I’m okay, really.”

Marcy pulled back and examined him closely. “Did you sleep at all?”

David nodded fiercely to confirm the lie. He didn’t want to talk about himself. “Patrick was doing better. I mean, the morphine does make everything better, but he was joking and we played sudoku.”

“Why don’t you come sit down?” Marcy asked, never taking away the contact, but sliding her arm around his back to guide him.

David allowed himself to be lead over to the group of chairs. Ted and Clint had put out a full spread of breakfast with the tables that had been gathered. He sat down in the empty spot next to Clint and Marcy took up his other side. It felt nice, being surrounded by the Brewers while Patrick wasn’t here.

“You didn’t want come down and see Patrick before they brought him in for surgery?” he asked them, confused.

Marcy’s hand left his back and she captured his hand in both of her own. “David, I’ve had over 30 years of pediatric nursing. You can have a patient completely calm, but as soon as you introduce their parents back into the room the waterworks start. It happens every time. If Clint and I had walked into that room, it wouldn’t have helped anything.”

“We’ll see him after the surgery,” Clint agreed. 

  
  
  


While trapped waiting for news on the person he loved, David allowed himself to be plied with food realizing he was ravenous . He allowed himself to be bullied into lying down across a bench seat, closing his eyes but never actually falling asleep. David stopped hitting Alexis’s hand away after the fourth time she stuck it into his deflated hair, letting her rub at his scalp as people passed around Patrick stories.

Stevie talked about one time they had been practicing the money dance until almost midnight, sweaty and exhausted, stumbling through the lines and steps until the ended up laughing hysterically in a heap of fake money. Alexis relayed a story of one time Patrick had sat and talked her through the difference between current and fixed assets. David’s favorite though, were Clint’s stories of sporty Patrick getting overly invested in competitions. Clint was telling them about the time Patrick was twelve and broke his left arm. David hadn’t been able to follow the explanation of how with all of the sports terms being bandied about, but it was unsurprising he’d been so competitive to risk bodily harm to win. 

If the Brewers’ stories were to be believed, Patrick had ended up in the hospital a lot as a child. David was very glad he had the rarely injured Patrick Brewer, and not childhood Patrick Brewer, who according to his mother, had an egg shaped bruise that had traveled around his forehead from the day he learned to walk until he was about seven. 

“David Rose?”

David shot up at the sound of the voice from the doorway, dislodging his sister's hand from his hair. “Hi! Yes, here.” David awkward scrambled out of the little cocoon that Alexis had commandeered for them and skidded to a stop in front of Dr. Rainer and his only-slightly-rumpled scrubs.  _ That had to be a good sign, yes? _ “How—How did it go.”

“I just wanted to let you know that the surgery went well. It was a quick, clean surgery - twenty minutes open to close. Recovery should be relatively easy.”

“Uhnnmmm,” David croaked through the tears that had sprung up. He could feel the tears fall down his face in streams. It felt like a silly thing to be crying about, but he was just so relieved. “That’s good—really good. When—” David swallowed once, twice, once his voice cracked, trying to get himself under control. “Uh, when can we see him.”

Dr. Rainer seemed entirely unbothered by David’s tears. “Mr. Brewer is still unconscious and is resting comfortably in post-op. Once he wakes up, someone will come to get you.”

David wanted to argue that he could just go sit with Patrick now if he was fine, but figured that fighting with the surgeon was not his best course of action. He nodded. “Okay.”

Mrs. Brewer stepped forward and began asking more detailed questions about the type of sutures and various ins and outs of post-operative care. David listened in a fog, none of it really penetrating past the thought  _ Patrick’s okay, Patrick’s okay, Patrick’s okay  _ that kept circling around in his head.

Clint stepped up and wrapped his arms around David. Clint hugged like his son did, strong and firm and more comforting than most hugs David had ever had. In lieu of Patrick, David held on to Clint longer than he would have otherwise. A warm, steady hand moved up and down David’s back in soothing strokes. “They’ll come get you soon,” Clint promised.

Minutes that felt like hours passed before someone actually showed up to bring him back. David headed into the post-operative ward with quick steps, rushing to the curtain that had been indicated. The words from the nurse  _ he’s awake and asking for you,  _ kept repeating in his mind. He had tried to tell Clint and Marcy to go first, but they had insisted that Patrick wanted David and he should go first. There was plenty of time. 

David pulled back the curtain and Patrick lay in the bed, still attached to IVs, wires leading back to monitors, his head barely propped up by pillows. Relief warred with a sick feeling that curled in his stomach at the trappings of illness. Patrick’s eyes were still glassy, but this time it was all a product of the very nice cocktail of drugs that were flowing through his veins than pain. The first true smile David had seen in twenty four hours curled onto Patrick’s face. 

“There he is. Can’t miss him,” Patrick slurred, his voice rough and smokey.

David drew closer to Patrick’s side, unable to stay away a moment longer. “You gonna sing for me?” David asked, needing some sarcasm to keep the tears of relief at bay. 

“No. Throat hurts.” Patrick swallowed, thickly. “They put a tube in there.”

“I have heard that,” David said, amusement curling into his throat as he sat in the seat drawn up by Patrick’s bedside. He reached out, unable to keep his hands off Patrick, and enveloped Patrick’s unencumbered hand in both of his own. 

“It’s like having two throats.”

“Is it?” David asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah. Like your real one is there but they stick a fake one in there.” Patrick’s hand fluttered inside David's.“So you end up with double. Super weird, huh?”

“Definitely weird.”

Patrick’s head rolled back up at the ceiling for a few beats. His right hand lifted off the bed and Patrick tried to move it off the bed, but struggled between the IV, the finger monitor and the effects of the drugs to move it very far. Reluctantly, David released Patrick’s other hand and watched him move to scratch his nose with broad, clumsy strokes. 

When Patrick turned his head to look at David again, David reached out to let his fingers danced along Patrick’s hairline. Patrick blinked at him owlishly. David’s heart flipped over in his chest at how earnest Patrick always managed to look, even when high.

“I had surgery,” Patrick said finally, part statement part question.

David smiled tremulously at Patrick as the relief mixed with the weight I’d the last few hours brought tears to prick at his eyes. “You did. You did great.”

Patrick bit his lip, looking closer to ten than thirty-two. He whispered, “We shouldn’t tell my parents. They’ll be mad I didn’t tell them before.”

David had to eat his lips to keep the smile off them. David ran his hand over Patrick’s brow, smoothing at the wrinkling skin of his forehead. “You don’t think your mom will notice when she calls the store for two weeks and you’re not there?”

“No,” Patrick said, full of faith in a man who had planned two surprise parties and ruined them himself (although those had been his parents’ faults both times, really). “You’ll do a good job keeping things from her.”

David bit his lip and tilted his head at Patrick. “Well, she already knows, and is here, so…”

“What? Where? David, where did you hide her?” Patrick hissed, his voice more curious than reprimanding. David realized Patrick was looking around the room for her. 

David slid his hand into Patrick’s and squeezed. “In the waiting room. She’s very glad you’re okay. So is your father.”

  
“You told them,” Patrick accused, his eyes wide and pupils blown. A moment later, they fluttered closed.

“I did.” David smiled, taking his free hand cup Patrick’s cheek. Patrick’s surprise wasn’t anger though, because he leaned into David’s hand, nuzzling at it slightly. “I’m not sorry. Everyone’s just glad you’re okay.”

Patrick’s head came up off of David’s hand and he blinked again. “Everyone?”

“Well, my parents don’t know, but no one needed Moira and Johnny in the hospital scene.”

“You’re okay?” Patrick asked, his hand disengaging David’s moving in slow motion out towards his face. “You’ve been crying.”

His head shook violently as he tried to keep the tears from coming back. “I...that’s not...that’s not important. How do you know?”

“Your eyes always get all red. And you have puffy bags, right there.” Patrick’s finger pointed somewhere in the vicinity of David’s nose, but that was likely the drugs. “Where’s your serum?”

“No, nope. Incorrect,” David insisted. David waved at Patrick’s hand and caught it between both of his own. He brought a kiss down on the back of Patrick’s fingers, just above the knuckles, and he knew it softened his words. “High people who have just gotten out of surgery do not put on eye serum. You would stab my eye out with those stubby fingers and that would be a crime.”

Patrick’s lids fluttered closed and then lifted to half-mast. His voice slurred as he said, “You could wear an eye patch like a hot pirate. I’ll get you a bird.”

“Birds are disgusting—mini-dinosaurs,ew—and no one needs that.”

“Pirate David needs it,” Patrick pleaded, his head lolling slightly on the pillow. “The bird swears and says incorrect and discusses body milk. And Pirate David wears leather and eyeliner—around the good eye.”

David found his fiance adorably ridiculous. High Patrick twice in a six month period was just the right amount. “They gave you the really good drugs huh?”

“Mmm,” Patrick hummed happily. 

Patrick’s eyes shuttered, his eyelids falling and his pale lashes fanning out, nearly translucent, over his cheeks. David kept holding onto Patrick’s hand, willing him to sleep. It only lasted a brief moment before his eyes bounced open again. “I will also accept Mermaid!David. He has both eyes and a long glittery black tail. Although, he could lose an eye and a hand. Like Aquaman.”

“I think Mermaid!David prefers to not lose any vital bits,” David mused, still holding Patrick’s hand between his own. “Please continue the story though.”

Patrick ran him through various alternate universe Davids, including Space Pirate!David and Olympic Diver!David, which had led to a debate about him ever allowing his head underwater. Eventually, the nurses cleared them to be moved up to a private room. David had refused to let Patrick out of his sight again and stayed through them setting up the bed and poking and prodding at a mostly amused if not sleepy Patrick. 

Patrick was still woozy and out of it a few hours later but holding up pretty well. Everyone managed to crowd into the room with them. The part of David that wanted to keep the best thing that ever happened to him wrapped in bubble wrap and behind glass wanted to clear everyone out and force Patrick to sleep. 

However, Patrick smiled loopily and giggled at Ted’s puns and Clint had put baseball on TV, which lead to Patrick trying to watch while losing track of what was happening and who was on which base. Stevie and Alexis kept taking not-so-subtle videos that David was fairly sure Patrick wouldn’t live down for quite a while. As David was usually the target of their attacks, he was letting it go for now. Marcy had taken up point for David when it came to asking questions of the hospital staff and was adding notes into the note document David had shared with her last night so he didn’t have to worry.

So instead, David sat in the corner, drinking his lovely Irish style coffee occasionally responding to his fiance’s exaggerated waves from the other side of the room and accepting the random blown kiss. David was fairly certain Stevie had caught him doing all of the things that under most circumstances he would pretend never happened. He was going to have to get his hands on her phone at some point in the future. Maybe he could fake getting high, actually get Stevie high, and steal it.

David had almost forgotten that there was anyone else who could possibly be stopping by today when the door flew open and his mother entered stage left looking like she was going to the Met Gala and not Elmdale Hospital. Her hands were in the air and came down to a soft clap as she cried,“Oh, my Dear Sweet Patrick. What maladie has befallen you?” 

Patrick’s mouth opened to answer her, but she waved both of her hand in front of his face. “No, no, do  _ not _ answer. You must save your fortitude for your con-va-la-cence.”

David clasped his hands to his face in horror, “Oh My God!”

Not more than two seconds behind his mother’s swooning performance, Johnny Rose shuffled into the hospital room, apologetic smiles. “Hey there, Patrick, son—how, how you holding up there? I mean, probably not good because they—I mean, you had surgery so not great, but at least alright? Let’s hope they took out the right thing.” His dad then laughed, the awkward laugh of David’s childhood nightmares and glanced around the room with a shrug. “You know, you hear all the horror stories.”

“Dad!” David hissed, his hands falling to his side in fists.

Stevie sidled up next to him, phone recording. “It’s like a train wreck.”

His dad clearly hadn’t heard Stevie but shrugged at him, like David was the rambling lunatic. “What, David? I mean, there’s taking out the wrong thing or leaving things in. Do you remember Dermot Yates Bently, I played golf with him." David did remember, he'd slept with both the son and daughter, on separate evenings. “His doctor replaced the wrong hip! Can you imagine?”

“Eww, Dad, stop. No one wants to hear about weird surgeries.” Alexis flapped her hands again and made a quiet  _ eww _ .

“I’m doing great,” Patrick told them, his smile exceptionally crooked. “David was right. The drugs are good ones.”

“Oh and aren’t they,” Moira cooed, ranging her sweeping train to the side and perching carefully on the bedside. “Modern pharmaceuticals are a marvel. What coc-ktail have they got you on? My favorites are Percocet and Vicodin”

David could see the Brewers’ eyes widening in horror as his mother listed her drugs of choice. David shot Alexis a look. After a ten-second silent conversation that included Alexis stomping her heeled foot and rolling her eyes, Alexis flapped both of her hands in a calling towards her motion to their mother. “Mom,  _ umm _ , could you come here,  _ please _ ?”

“Dilaudid, always,” Moira paused, as if she was just hearing Alexis on a delay and turned to look at her daughter. “What, Alexis, I’m just having a conversation with sweet Pat. Can it not wait?”

“We’re still not doing Pat,” David reminded her. 

He shot another look at Alexis who was typing away at her phone. She glanced up and began making faces that David couldn’t interpret but knew she was trying to communicate something to him. “Yes, umm, I just got this  _ email  _ about a  _ contract  _ and I thought you might want to look at it, but you know we can do that later. It’s  _ only _ for a movie.”

Their mother’s hawk-like eyes landed on Alexis and she froze like the mouse. Moira’s voice was dangerously quiet as she asked, “Alexis, have you been sitting on a chance for Mummy to return to the silver screen?”

Alexis sent David a look that screamed  _ you owe ME _ , and she rolled her eyes and held out her cell phone to face their mother. “No, mom, I just got the email.” Alexis whipped her phone back around and tossed it in her purse. She strode to the bed, gathering their mother’s arm in her own and pulling her up as Moira went digging in her purse. “We’re just going to go look at this in the cafeteria. Does anyone want anything?”

Mercifully, everyone shook their heads no and Alexis kept hitting their mom’s hands away from her bag, pulling her away. David breathed a sigh of relief. One crazy parent down, one to go. Sadly, his father wandered further into the room, hands buried in his pockets and managed to stand right at the foot of the bed and stare up at the game. Thankfully, Patrick seemed distracted again.

“Ooh, the game’s on.” 

Ted, the sweet but unhelpful man that he was, began to stand. “You can have my seat if you want, Mr. Rose.” 

“Oh, Ted you don’t have to do that.” However, as soon as Ted moved to sit back down, Johnny took a few steps closer to the chair and said, “Thank you, son.”

Ted froze, half squatting above the seat of the chair. “Uh, yup, it’s no problem. Can’t take this game sitting down, anyway.” Ted moved to stand where Alexis had been earlier, craning his neck to see the TV.

The tableau retreated to its previous calm state and David refused to look at the Brewers after this particular performance by his family. Patrick, who had watched all the events with a light smile, turned his head and caught sight of the TV. “Ooh, baseball. The Jays are winning.”

David was not sure which troupe was winning, or if Patrick’s assessment was correct, but if it made Patrick happy, that was all that mattered.

Stevie’s grin widened. “And we’re back.”

“Stop that,” David hissed, flapping his hands at her. 

Within half an hour of the Roses’ arrival, Patrick’s eyes drifted closed and light snores were coming from his open mouth. David shooed everyone out of the room, except for the Brewers, insisting that they were all disturbing Patrick’s rest and therefore his healing. People made promises to come back the next day and David really wished they wouldn’t. He reiterated again that they might be releasing Patrick tomorrow and no one should worry about being there. 

“Honey, Alexis gave us the keys to the hotel room she stayed in. They booked it for another night.” Marcy held out the sleeve with the keys inside it out to David. “If you want to go and take a nap, no one would blame you.”

“Oh, I…” As nice as a bed sounded, David didn’t want to leave the hospital. The part of him that had lived through a million heartbreaks still worried that if he left Patrick out of his sight that he wouldn’t be here on return. As much as David trusted that Patrick wasn’t going to run out on him, he wasn’t sure fate would be as steadfast as Patrick. “No. No.” 

His future in-laws both stared at him with concern in their eyes. David tried a tired smile. “You traveled all night. You go use the hotel room. I got some sleep here, at least.”

“Are you sure, David?” Clint asked, his hand on David’s upper arm. 

“Yeah. It’s not a problem.” 

David Rose of a few years ago would have thrown a hissy fit over more than twenty-four hours with no bed or access to any of his products for skin and hair care. David had caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror when he had used the bathroom not long ago and wished he hadn’t. Still, he wasn’t ready to leave.

Clint gave David’s arm one last squeeze and his hand drifted away. “We’ll be back for dinner, okay?”

“Sounds good,” David agreed, although dinner seemed like a foreign concept. David wasn’t even sure what time it was. His sense of time had shifted to being based on what other people told him. He should have probably taken them up on the ability to go to the hotel and fet shower. David was fairly certain he smelled but he blessedly couldn’t smell himself. 

Marcy leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

David wasn’t sure he deserved any thanks, but he just smiled at Patrick’s mother all the same. “For him,” he said, glancing back at Patrick, snoring slightly in the bed, “anytime.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it! This is the last chapter! We've hit a time jump here. Enjoy!
> 
> **ALSO: Please note the fic rating has been upped to E. Again the fic rating has been upped to a E. There's a sex scene in this chapter.**
> 
> Thanks, as always, go to TINN and RQ for all the support, suggestions and edits as my dynamic duo. Thanks to all of you, reading and leaving kudos and all the comments. They mean the world. And to the members of my favorite bar for listening to me whine and encouraging this madness from start to finish.

“Stop.”

David made his face as blank as he possibly could, which he knew wasn’t very, as he stared back at Patrick who was still holding the large box of new almond body milk. He began fidgeting as he said, “What—I don’t, what?”

“David, it’s been three weeks,” Patrick reminded him, as if he needed a damn reminder of how long anything had been. David was still skittering somewhere between memories of the hospital and the long days of recovery afterward. Thankfully, Patrick put the box down. “And I am fine. I probably should have come back to work last week. You can stop wincing every time I pick up product.”

David winced again just thinking about Patrick lifting heavy objects. They had spent the first two weeks after surgery living in Room 7, their parents in rooms on either side of them, and David could still see every pained movement Patrick had taken. He tried to change his face into a careless smile and felt like he failed at that as well. “You could just sit in the back and—”

Patrick’s hands came to frame his face, firm and sure, and David was very pleased to note that Patrick hadn’t winced when he lifted his hands over waist height. “David, I have had nearly a month of sitting on my ass. I have been cleared for duty by my doctor, whom you questioned within an inch of his life. You know this.”

“I do.”

Knowing it consciously and trusting that knowledge were two completely different things. It was hard not to see Patrick curled up in bed, in pain or pale and looking small in the harsh lighting of the hospital which only served to wash him out further, or slow and deliberate shuffling up and down the walkway of the motel when David made him get up for his daily walks. They had moved home last week. Patrick was fine with the three flights of stairs and had managed to do small things around the house. Work was a whole other issue. 

David had let him come back but wanted to chain him to the desk. 

“So I need you to leave me alone and let me do my job and not stare at me like I’m going to break.”

“Okay. I just—” David cut himself off as he felt tears start to burn at his eyes. 

Patrick’s thumb came to brush at the tear that was leaking out despite all of David’s wishes for it to remain inside his eyes. “I know this was hard on you.”

“On  _ me _ ? I didn’t…” David swallowed the sob rather than let it out. He tried to shake his head but it was trapped, safe between Patrick’s hands. “You’re the one who had  _ surgery _ .” 

Patrick’s smile bloomed slow and soft and his thumb wiped at another tear too stubborn to listen when David told it not to fall. “Yeah, but you’re the one who had to take care of me.” 

_ It was easy _ , David thought. Most of the past few weeks had just been David running on pure instinct; things had to happen and he had to do them. He tried to say the words but they caught in his throat, trapped behind the sob he wasn’t going to release.

Patrick’s brows drew together as David opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. The little frown that always made David want to wipe it away formed on Patrick’s face. “David, you don’t think I realize how much you had to manage? I was next to useless in the hospital and you asked every question, fought with half the medical staff to make sure I was taken care of. You did everything in your power to make me feel better, figured out where we were going to stay when I was released, coordinated our parents and ran the store when I couldn’t be here.”

When Patrick layed out every step, one after the other, how much David had been carrying on his own was immense. David never thought of anything beyond the very next step that needed to be made. He had learned to do it for Alexis over the years, just kept going without thinking too much about what had to be done. 

The love in Patrick’s eyes was overwhelming and soft. “After all this time, and you’re still out here making everything okay for me, David.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” David said, attempting for levity but falling somewhere deep in his emotions.

“I think, tonight, you’re just going to have to let me take care of you.”

The undercurrent of longing and heat in Patrick’s voice sent a thrill of excitement through David, that was quickly extinguished as a memory of Patrick in pain. “Well, I—”

Patrick frowned, reading his careful hedging. “David, we’ve had the all clear for two days and I am tired of sneaking off into the bathroom and jerking off when you’ve fallen asleep.”

David knew that he was doing it. He felt the bed dip and Patrick leave the bed and head for the bathroom. David would take care of himself to the sounds of Patrick trying to be quiet in the bathroom. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have sex. David wanted to have sex with his fiance desparately. 

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Patrick promised him. 

“You don’t—“ David pressed his forehead to Patrick’s and took an unsteady breath rather than saying  _ you don’t know that.  _ Technically, they did know that. David had asked the doctor multiple times if he was sure. But still, he couldn’t quite let the worry go. It seemed to be this beast that kept living inside his chest and creeping up. “You didn’t have to see  _ you _ like that.”

The words came out of his mouth and David screwed his eyes shut. He felt Patrick pull back slightly, removing points of contact at their foreheads and noses and leaving David slightly bereft. He risked opening his eyes and found Patrick regarding him carefully. There was a vulnerability in those big light brown eyes, with a bit of hurt, that David hated seeing. 

“Am I not attractive to you anymore David?” Patrick asked, as if it was ridiculous but David could make out the edge of worry underneath.

“That’s not! I don’t—” David ground his teeth in frustration and tried to think of how to phrase it. “Of course you’re attractive to me.  _ Patrick _ ,” David brushed his lips over Patrick’s and then pressed his forehead back to Patrick’s. David’s hands wandered up Patrick’s arms. “It’s—mmm. We could just wait, you know, until after the wedding. You’ll be fully healed and it could be...  _ romantic. _ ”

“David Rose,” Patrick told him in that forceful voice that gave David shivers, his hands clamping tight on either side of David’s face. “I have enough cousins to know that no one actually has sex in their wedding night—they’re too tired. I am not waiting another two weeks to get you naked. I am going to leave at six to go home. Be at the apartment at seven. Be ready.”

“Okay.” David sputtered, his heart stuttering inside his chest and his body filling with warmth. “Okay.”

Patrick gave him a sassy grin and pressed his lips to David’s. David let himself melt into Patrick and the warmth that spread through him at the kiss. When Patrick did pull back, David chased his lips with his own, not ready to stop. Patrick just smirked at him and dropped his hands before turning away. David watched him walk to pick up the box of body milk again. Patrick started humming something under his breath as he began lifting bottles from the box and arranging them on the counter. 

David had a smoothie for lunch and did his best not to follow Patrick around the store and take boxes out of his hands. Instead, he found himself sending furtive glances while talking with customers and fiddling with products. His eyes may have caught sight of Patrick’s ass across the store and a familiar twitch kept coming up. David was acutely sorry he had chosen a skirt for work today as it did nothing to hide rising tides and David kept having to strategically hide around the store.

Patrick left the store at six, with a smile and a kiss that was all tongue and a promise for more to come. He had pulled away, a juicy pop smacking between them, and grinned at David. “Seven sharp, David.”

David breathed in a shaky breath before bumbling through. “Mmmm. Yup. Yeah. I’ll be there.”

David puttered through close, messing up three times on the safe paperwork, which made him have to strike through lines and frown deeply. 

Thinking back to earlier, David wondered if Patrick had fully understood his point. David had never stopped being attracted to Patrick. More than one night over the last few weeks he had been the one taking care of business in the bathroom or the shower, still so turned on by Patrick. Putting his hands on Patrick, however, had him pulling back. David could still hear the little gasp of pain that Patrick had made when he had just sat on the bed next to him in the hospital, could still see the deep lines of pain etched into his face and the way David had to remind himself where he could and could not put his hands on Patrick.

After the check in with the doctor two days ago, David and Patrick had practically fallen through the door of the apartment, tongues tangled and hands roaming. A laugh had seemingly escaped from both their lips as they both worked to toe off shoes without letting each other go. 

David had felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he pressed their bodies closer together. He lifted his head for the kiss and dove for his favorite spot on Patrick’s neck, the one right by the vein that throbbed insistently whenever he was excited. He loved the feel of the soft skin under his nose and the heady smell of Patrick mixed in with his soap and cologne. David didn’t realize that his hands had come to settle on either side of Patrick’s waist. He grabbed to pull Patrick closer when he heard a gasp that sounded all too familiar. 

David had pulled away like he had been burned. The gasp had brought him right back to the hospital and the tortured noise that Patrick had made any time someone had touched him. David had exploded with apologies and covered his face in his hands. When he thought back now, he could hear the confusion in Patrick’s voice and longing as he had reached out for David. At the time though, David couldn’t see past his own memories. 

Tonight, though, Patrick had told him to be ready in that deep voice that always sent little bolts of electricity through him. David was going to go home and let Patrick handle everything. It was all he could think of while he closed. 

When Daivd got back to Patrick’s apartment, he used his key to let himself in. The little round table had a tablecloth draped over it and candles that were actually in candlesticks, which David hadn’t known Patrick owned. So many of their nights were spent with a box of pizza or a quick meal. Even when Patrick did cook, he didn’t go to all this trouble.

“Look at you, seven sharp,” Patrick said and David glanced from the table to Patrick, standing at the stove with a dishtowel slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” David whispered, toeing off his shoes in the entryway.

“Hi,” Patrick returned with a smile. “I’m almost done. There’s a red open on the bar cart if you’re ready for a glass.”

David padded across the room in socked feet and picked up the bottle of red wine, it was a Cab Franc by Chateau des Charmes that they had begun carrying in the store. It was not what Patrick would consider an inexpensive bottle of wine, but David had fallen in love with it upon sampling.

He turned to Patrick, his eyebrows waggling, shoulders shimmying as he finished pouring his glass. “Feeling fancy tonight?”

Patrick’s smile grew as he watched David. “Nothing too fancy. Just some pasta with meatballs and some garlic bread. Easy.” 

What Patrick thought was easy and what David thought was easy were two fully different things. Easy was picking up food on your way home. Easy was a Cup of Noodles after you had read the package three times and learned to measure the water before you added it to the cup. Throwing together a full meal with garlic bread was not easy. 

David didn’t say that though, but poured Patrick a glass of wine and set it down on the counter next to where he was stirring meatballs in sauce. Patrick turned his head and David leaned down for the kiss. “Thanks,” Patrick said when he pulled back, licking his lips like David was the delicious meal.

Within a few minutes, they were seated with full plates in front of them, but Patrick’s foot was playing along the edge of David’s calf and it was distracting. Still David managed to pick up actual pasta on his fork and put it in his mouth. The moan that escaped was nearly sexual, but food had always been like that for David. Patrick had already fussed that it wasn’t like he had made everything from scratch, it was penne and jarred sauce that he had ‘doctored’ a little and frozen meatballs. Still, David would have ended up with crunchy pasta and burnt meatballs and raw garlic on the bread. 

“Fuck,”David threw his headback in enjoyment, and then brought his head back level and gave Patrick a grateful look. “that’s good.”

“Is it? I couldn’t tell?”

David forked up another bite. It was halfway to his mouth when he realized that Patrick hadn't had a single bite. “Are you not hungry? You should eat.”

Patrick gave David a wolfish grin but didn’t move to pick up his utensils. “Oh, I’m definitely hungry.”

“Patrick. Dinner.” David signaled with his full fork and his eyes widened as the penne almost slipped off of his fork. David had to do some careful maneuvering to end up with his food in his mouth rather than on the table. 

“Mmm.”

David focused on his food but kept glancing up at his fiance. David picked up his wine glass to take a sip Patrick’s foot had landed squarely in his lap and was working itself carefully against his crotch in smooth motions. Only years of experience kept him from spilling red wine all over his Rick Owens sweater. 

“You okay, David?” Patrick practically chortled. Smug bastard. “Something startle you?”

“You...nnggg,” David closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, “Don’t play fair.”

“Don’t I?”

The foot slipped away as quickly as it arrived and a whimper escaped David’s mouth at the loss. Patrick just bit into a piece of garlic bread with a wicked grin playing around his mouth, his eyes dancing with merriment. David gave Patrick another glare and stabbed several bites of penne on his fork. He shoved them in his mouth and chewed, his overstuffed cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk’s. Patrick just seemed amused, but he picked up his fork and picked up a bite of the pasta for himself. 

David considered it a victory, but with his dick straining against his jeans, and the cool place where Patrick’s foot had been, David wasn’t so sure. 

They continued the meal, talking about the gains the store was still making and how Alexis and Stevie hadn’t run the store into the ground while David refused to leave Patrick’s side. Patrick bought up the suit fitting the next week and how David wasn’t allowed to go. David teased that he had picked the entire set of fabric out so that it wasn’t like he didn’t know what it would like. Patrick fired back that it was the principle of the thing.

Still, David could picture Patrick done up in the stunning deep navy fabric David had helped him pick out. The vision stole his breath and did nothing to cool the intensity of his anticipation for the evening. In fact, it made David want to be finished with dinner much faster.

Patrick neatly paired his silverware together and arranged them on his plate. He lifted the linen napkin David had sourced from a vendor over in Elm Springs to wipe his beautiful mouth and then looked at David. “I wanted to thank you for everything, David. For being in this with me.”

“Being in this with you isn’t hard. I don’t need a thank you.” David immediately shook his head. Everyone was so impressed with him just for doing what needed to be done. They were getting married. 

Patrick gave him that soft, loving smile that always made David squirm because he wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. “I know. I just meant, we are going to take things slow tonight. We were so excited two nights ago and then you just shut down.”

David closed his eyes against the memory. “I hurt you.”

“No, David,” Patrick insisted. His chair scraped as he stood up, his voice was steady. “I liked it. I was turned on.”

“But it sounded like—” David’s words got caught and were strangled inside his throat, but Patrick was rounding their tiny table. He tried to take in a breath and it instantly hitched. “And I was holding you—“

“I know.” Patrick sat in his lap and stroked his face with those steady hands David adored. “So tonight, we are going to get started in bed and we are going to be using the safe word, and I promise you the second anything hurts I will use it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

David slid his hand back up the back of Patrick’s neck and pulled his head down to David’s. Having Patrick in his lap, healthy and whole and with those magic lips, filled David with a sense of peace. He hadn’t realized until this moment that he’d been running on mostly fumes. 

Patrick pulled away, but pressed a kiss to David’s forehead as a consolation. “Alright, David, are you done here?”

David startled and then looked at the plate that he had mostly cleared. “Yeah, I’m done.”

“Perfect,” Patrick grinned and it made David’s heart to the weird swoopy thing he couldn’t explain. “Why don’t you go brush your teeth because some idiot made dinner with garlic and onions.”

David didn’t have to affect the pout. “You also ate garlic and onions.”

Patrick kissed David at the tender spot right in front of his ear’s shell. Then he whispered, “Yeah, but I’m going to clear the plates, because leaving a mess on the table to clean up in the morning is incorrect. Can’t have you distracted by dirty dishes and the possibility of vermin.”

David was only half joking when he shook his head and uttered, “I have never loved you more.”

This time, Patrick pressed a kiss to David’s lips and it was firm and forceful. Their mouths slotted together, shifting and Patrick’s tongue slipped between David’s lips and explored David. David wanted that tongue to explore other places. 

Too soon, Patrick pulled and began to stand. David reached out with grasping hands, but Patrick danced away. David “I’ll be with you shortly. Now go.”

“Git,” David muttered under his breath. 

Still, David headed off to the bathroom, watching Patrick humming as he cleaned up from dinner. A part of David wanted to bundle Patrick up and send him to bed, certain he was overdoing it. David bit back the litany of worries that wanted to come forward and began on his evening routine. He removed his Rick Owens sweater and carefully folded it before grabbing his toothbrush and began brushing his teeth. 

Patrick joined him in the tiny bathroom, pressing up against David as he slid in between David and the sink. David ended up with Patrick’s ass pressed into his crotch as Patrick wet his toothbrush and added a smear of toothpaste on his brush.

Patrick moved past, giving a slight wiggle to send David over the edge. “Sorry,” Patrick spoke around the toothbrush in his mouth. David wanted him to be speaking, or not speaking, around other things inside his mouth. How had they gone three weeks without doing more? 

Oh yes, surgery, pain and David’s crippling fear of loss. “Mmmm,” David murmured.

David carefully rinsed the cleanser off of his face in smooth strokes. Patrick kept glancing over and David avoided any direct eye contact, needing to finish his nine-step regimen before bed with limited interruption. Patrick was a . David took a fresh cloth, patting his face dry. Patrick ducked under his arm, spitting out toothpaste into the basin. 

“Gross.”

Patrcik tilted his head and looked up with a cheeky grin. “I know you have rules about the occupancy limits of the bathroom but I didn’t want to waste time.”

“For barging in on my time and space, you get to put on my eye serum.”

Patrick smiles at him and it’s like the sun. “You could come up with a million reasons for me to put on your serum, and I’ll say yes every time.”

Patrick washed his hands and then took the little pot from David. Patrick dipped his ring finger into the serum and began gently smoothing it over David’s delicate skin. “The bags are fading.”

“I didn’t have bags,” David snapped. Oh there had been bags, but Patrick had been mostly too blissed out on pain meds to have really noticed anything at that point. David had been slowly putting his face back in order after a few days of severe neglect. You almost couldn’t tell he’d skipped the nine step regimen a few times.

Patrick just smiled affectionately, and smoothed his ring finger under David’s eye in upward sweeping motions. “You slept in a chair for two nights, and then proceded to spend the last three weeks worried about me.”

“It wasn’t two nights,” David argued back. “We figured out how to share the bed the second night.”

Patrick had just stared at David as he had refused to have them wheel a cot in. David had begun a long-winded ramble about the linen quality Patrick had pointed out that his parents had offered up the hotel room and David refused. They’d been inches from a fight, David horrified that Patrick would even suggest that he go. But then, even high as a kite, Patrick had been sensible enough to scoot over and make room, saying  _ I’ll sleep better if you’re in here with me _ to all of David’s protests about making the incisions worse.

Patrick smiled softly. “We did.”

Patrick put the cap on the serum and put it back on the shelf. David stood from the toilet and reached around to grab his night moisturizer. “I still have work to do.”

“I know,” Patrick said, not moving away but watching David with hungry eyes.

David began smoothing the cool cream up his neck while Patrick slid behind him. His mouth landed on David’s left shoulder, pressing a soft kiss while catching David’s eyes in the mirror. Patrick began moving his mouth up David’s shoulder towards his neck, while his hands came to cup David’s hips. Patrick wiggled his index finger underneath the band of David’s joggers and past the boxers and found the little hollow where his leg fed into his hip.

Patrick’s mouth latched on to a spot just at the base of David’s neck as his finger began to rub back and forth in the hollow. The light callus, from years of playing guitar, was just the right contrast against David’s tender skin. David shivered as Patrick sucked a little harder. 

“Fuck.”

Patrick’s mouth came free with a pop, and David was met with a grin in the mirror. “I thought you still had work to do.”

“I do,” David retorted, aiming for prim but it came out husky instead. Patrick’s finger kept up is insistent stroking and David wanted to curl into the feeling.

“And what was that work?”

“I was...I am... Ugh, Patrick.” His fiance’s name came out on a moan. “I need to put on my moisturizer.”

Patrick’s lips moved from the tender skin at his neck, and moved down towards the end of his shoulder. “You have two free hands,” he murmured over David’s skin. “No one is stopping you.”

David threw his head back, enjoying the sensation as Patrick’s right hand gripped his hip and pulled him closer. Sensations were beginning to cascade through David from all the different points of contact. “Mmmm. Yeah. Yup. Nothing in the way.”

Patrick’s lips came to nibble at the shell of David’s ear, with light movements, then he whispered, “David. Moisturizer.”

David pouted, his fiance was such a troll. “You don’t play fair.”

“Sorry.”

Patrick stepped back, removing his hands and his lips from David’s skin. David just glared, picking up another dollop of cream and smoothing it over his cheeks while Patrick watched. David worked to quickly finish his skincare routine. He moved to put the cap on the jar as Patrick grabbed for his own moisturizer.

“Clenser first, please,” David said, handing him the correct bottle with the cotton pads.

Patrick gave him a cheeky grin but took both items without arguing. “Alright.”

“I’m going to leave you to all of this,” David made big swooping motions with his hands. “Because we are still breaking the occupancy limit of this bathroom.”

Patrick ordered, “Underwear only, go get on the bed.” and slapped David’s ass as he slid by Patrick.

“Okay,” David agreed, his voice quivering with excitement as he headed out into their living room.

David disrobed down to his black and white modal boxer briefs, carefully putting up his black joggers and sliding his socks in the hamper. David slipped underneath the covers, enjoying the feel of the combed cotton sheets against his skin. He closed his eyes, allowing a hand to travel down his chest and underneath the band of his underwear and began to touch himself. 

David slipped into feeling the sensations, pretending it was Patrick reaching down to touch him. He loved when Patrick would take his dick in one of those warm, wide hands and carefully rubbed his thumb over the head and around the rim.

“You getting started without me?”

David opened his eyes to see Patrick crossing the living room towards the bed. David slipped his hand out of his boxer-briefs, enjoying the flash in Patrick’s eye and the increased speed as he made his way around the furniture to the where David was waiting.

David flipped over and crawled to meet Patrick at the edge of the bed. Instantly, David’s hands grabbed for the hem of Patrick’s undershirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” David insisted. 

Patrick’s hands were already on David’s ass, fingers digging in right under the curve and his mouth found one of David’s nipples. David began inching Patrick’s shirt up as a first a feather-light kisses ringed his areola. Patrick’s tongue lapped at his nipple. David let out a small whine at the sensation, arching into him. 

Patrick pulled him closer, pressing David’s cock into his belly. David pulled back, tugging harder at Patrick’s undershirt. “Off. Now.”

Patrick released David’s ass, his arms lifting overhead and David pulled the fabric free tossing it somewhere behind his fiance. David splayed his hands on Patrick’s chest, feeling Patrick breathe in and out. He ran his hands down to Patrick’s jeans and fumbled with the button while pressing a kiss to the stubble covered jaw in front of him. Within a few seconds, the button slipped through the loop and David’s hands began shoving at the pants down.

“Off,” he ordered, continuing to move kisses across Patrick’s neck and down his chest.

He was just on the start of a very nice hickey, hands diving under Patrick’s underwear, when hands came to his chest and pressed David backwards. “Hey, wait. Stop.”

Patrick’s chest was now out of hickey range. “No. No, please,” David whined as Patrick moved out of the way.

“We need to talk about this before we get started,” Patrick pointed out, sounding far more alert than David could have managed at the moment. 

David threw his head back with a disappointed snort. “Safe word, pants off, in bed. Good talk. Get naked.”

David sent grabby hands out to snatch Patrick’s hips. Patrick, the asshole, stepped back out of the way and smiled softly. “David. I love you.”

“Mmm, mmhmm,” David agreed, nodding emphatically, the whine still present. “I feel very loved. So loved. I just think I might feel a little more love if you were to take those pants all the way off and get into bed.”

“I know, David. It’s just that last time we did this you had a little freak out.” David opened his mouth to argue, but Patrick just touched a finger to his lips, keeping him from saying anything. David sucked Patrick’s finger into his mouth. Patrick just smiled affectionately. “So, I am fine. I feel fine. Nothing hurts. If at any point I feel something hurts and we need to stop, I am going to use the safe word. But you’re not gonna hurt me.I want you so much”

David used his teeth to softly run over Patrick’s finger tip. Patrick bit his lip before grinning. “What’s the safe word, David?”

  
He gave one last suck on Patrick’s finger before removing his lips with a pop. “Plums.”

“Thank you. I’m just going to take these off now. I think my fiance wants me to be naked.”

“He does,” David nodded emphatically. He reached his hands out for Patrick, delighted when he saw Patrick’s full erection. “He does want you to be naked.”

Patrick allowed David to pull him to the edge of the bed, where David kissed Patrick, allowing his tongue to slide into his fiance’s mouth and tangled their tongues together. Patrick pushed David backwards, joining him in the bed. David ran his hands freely over the planes Patrick’s naked body, enjoying the sensation of firm, warm skin under his palms. When he got to Patrick’s stomach, his fingers moved and found the flat spot that now made up the bottom of Patrick’s belly button, a thin scar pulling it tight.

Patrick’s hand closed around his own and Patrick brought David’s fingers to his lips before wrapping David’s arm around his neck. David let his fingers dance over Patrick’s freckled back, enjoying how Patrick’s own fingers had come to grip his hips tightly. 

  
Patrick shifted and maneuvered David down to the mattress. David felt like his skin was lighting up everywhere under magic hands that played him as easily as they did a guitar. Patrick rose over David before trailing kisses down from his chest to his hip bone. David arched up and a whine escaped his mouth. 

David wrapped his arms around Patrick and pulled him closer. They continued their hasty explorations of each other, hungry for every touch. Three weeks was not very long and a lifetime all at the same time. 

His cock jumped as Patrick’s hand dipped to cup David’s balls, rolling them gently and following it up with a swift tug. David groaned in response, his nails digging in against Patrick’s back. 

“You feels so fucking good,” Patrick whispered against David’s skin, head hovering over his collar bone. “It’s been too long.”

“Mmm. Fuck,” David cursed as Patrick’s hand moved further down to tease at his taint. He struggled to get two breaths in before gasping, “Lube.”

Patrick’s response was a chuckle against skin as his fingers worked back to David’s balls. “We’re getting there.”

David trailed his own hands down Patrick’s body, curving around his sides to reach for Patrick’s own cock, but Patrick had moved his body down further, kissing along David’s happy trail. Patrick sucked at the skin just between David’s hip bone and dick, causing him to arch off the bed. “Now. Please.”

“I thought we had agreed to go slow.”

“Fuck slow,” David growled. 

Patrick pressed a tentative kiss to the tip of David’s cock, causing it to twitch. “That’s what I am doing. Fucking you slow.”

“Asshole.”

“We’ll get there,” Patrick promised, lifting his head to look up and catch David’s eyes. Patrick’s lips were swollen when he smiled up at David. Maintaining eye contact, Patrick dipped back down to take David’s dick in his mouth. David watched as Patrick bobbed up and down, with smooth, swift strokes. 

David arched his hips up towards Patrick’s mouth unable to remain still. Patrick hummed happily as he used a hand to spread spit further down and began pumping his hand in order with his mouth. David twitched again, enjoying the sensations that were shuddering through his body. “Nnngggh.”

“Do you like that?” Patrick asked, smug as fuck.

David’s hand moved to cup the back of Patrick’s head, tangling in the hair that was starting to curl softly as it grew out. He began to fuck Patrick’s mouth, holding his head in place. Patrick’s cheeks hollowed out as David continued moving rhythmically, feeling himself getting harder. 

“Stop. Too close. Not—“ David shifted, using his grip on Patrick’s head to get his hips out from under Patrick’s mouth. “nope.”

“You were close.”

“I know. I want—“ David flipped over and reached for the drawer of the bedside table. He took out the lube and threw it behind him. 

The slap of Patrick catching it and the snap flipping the lid brought a smile to his face. David shimmied into the mattress as a slick finger began to make a gentle circle around his hole. David let out a little whimper.

“Do you want this inside you?”

“Mmm.”

Patrick stilled, causing a frustrated moan to fall from David’s lips. “What?” Patrick asked.

“Yes,” David begged.

Patrick slid a slick finger in past the tight ring of muscle and began slowly working David open. David pressed backward towards Patrick’s hand, rising up on his knees. David put his hand out and Patrick passed him the lube. Up on his elbows, David squirted some into his hand and began pumping in time with Patrick’s finger thrusts.

Patrick added a second finger, stretching David open further. His mouth came to press sloppy kisses along David’s back. David arced into them, overwhelmed with sensations. Patrick’s free hand came and splashed across David’s belly, holding him in position. “Fuck. yes.”

Patrick worked a third finger inside David, filling him up with his talented fingers. They continued making space, hitting his prostate and making him see stars.

“Flip over for me. I want to see your face when I put my dick inside you. Want you to see how good you make me feel”

David lowered his left elbow and shifted to his side as Patrick’s arm came to catch his left leg right hand still inside. With careful maneuvering, Patrick managed to duck under David's left leg and led it to rest against his shoulder, his fingers still flexing inside of David. 

Grabbing the lube, David propped himself up and squeezed some more lube into his hand. 

He reached out and took Patrick in hand, giving his cock long, languid strokes, the kind he knew Patrick liked best.. David watched as Patrick’s eyes fluttered closed; his face flushed with a rosy glow.David missed this, seeing Patrick feeling good Patrick bit his lip and and groaned in pleasure. 

“David. Fuck. Let me get inside you. Let me take care of you.”

Suddenly the pressure of Patrick’s fingers slid out leaving him empty, and David let out a whine. Patrick squirted a little extra lube and David slicked him up before Patrick pressed himself into David. 

David’s hand fell away as Patrick’s cock stretched and filled him. Patrick stayed still a moment, allowing David time to get used to the new sensations. David began pressing himself closer to Patrick, working to move in smooth rhythmic thrusts.

Patrick’s fingers dig into his ass as he lifted David closer. David took hold of his own dick and began stroking in time with the pattern set by their hips. Patrick began chanting David's namelike it was a lifeline. David was beyond words, vocalizing in mewls and moans and little cries.

  
Every nerve inside him was on fire and the world was hot, and wonderful. The worry he hadn’t been able to shake around Patrick’s heath dissolved under his fiance’s care. Patrick’s recovery was definitely complete. Love spread out from David’s chest and made his limbs shaky and heavy. He arched up with feeling, his hand sliding off of himself and fisting in the sheets. 

His own hand was replaced with Patrick’s fist and he almost came from the first contact. “David,” Patrick panted in his ear, hot and breathy, “you’re so good, let me make you feel good, love you so much.”

He wanted to say the words back but couldn’t seem to make anything work in a coordinated manner. Instead, he continued to make nonsensical noises. David felt like a spring, tightly coiled. Suddenly he shattered and shockwaves began cascading over David, his own come spitting out over himself and Patrick.

“Fuck. Fuck, Fuck,” Patrick cried out, his thrusts becoming more wild. “David!”

Tremors overtook Patrick’s body and David could feel him coming inside him, despite his own aftershocks continuing to pulse through him. Patrick’s head came down next to his, muttering loving nonsense. David lifted leaden limbs and managed to wrap them around Patrick’s broad back. He trailed a heavy hand up to cup the back of Patrick’s head and held on to the very alive and healthy man on top of him. 

Patrick laughed low and warm in David’s ear and he felt a kiss pressed to his temple. His words were rough in David’s ear. “Fuck, David. You’re amazing, you know that? I missed you so much.”

“I was right here,” David responded, massaging his fingers against the back of Patrick’s skull in careful strokes.

Patrick leaned into the sensation and David felt a little more love well up in his chest, surprised that there was more to feel. “I know. I know. I just, mmm,”A few more kisses peppered across David’s cheek. “I love you.”

David stroked his hand down over Patrick’s cheek. “You just…”

“I wasn’t fully myself,” Patrick told him, pressing kisses into David’s palm. “I was frustrated. In a lot of ways.”

A chuckle rolled out of David’s chest at the understatement. Within two days of coming home, Patrick had been grumpy as fuck and bothered about all the things he couldn’t do. “You were a pain in the ass.”

Patrick waggled his pale eyebrows, “I certainly hope—”

David pressed a finger to Patrick’s lips before the god awful joke dropped from them. “Shh, don’t ruin it.”

They both dissolved into laughter and kisses and David felt his dick twitch slightly at the contact. Patrick shifted and pulled out, and David gave a slight whimper at the cold air that hit his body. “I’ll be right back,” Patrick chuckled, pressing another kiss to David’s temple. The mattress shifted as Patrick levered himself off of the bed. “Just going to go and get us cleaned up. You’ve given enough sponge baths for awhile.”

David lay back in blissed out afterglow waiting for Patrick to return with a warm washcloth. He drifted half to sleep before warm, tender strokes began to move over his chest, which were followed by cooling trails that raised goosebumps. David opened his eyes and found Patrick smiling down at him while he worked. 

“We made quite a mess,” Patrick observed, carefully tending to him.

“Mmmm,” David agreed, eyes drifting closed. “Cold.”

Patrick drew the blanket and comforters up over David and he snuggled into the mattress, beginning to roll himself up inside the warmth. Within moments, hands began to tug at the blankets and shove at his shoulder. David clung tighter to the covers and screwed his eyes shut tight and tried to keep the smile from blooming as he kept Patrick from the covers.

“Alright, budge over. You can’t have the whole bed.”

“S’mine now. Thank you,” David returned, refusing to open his eyes. “You live on the couch now.”

“Come on,” Patrick said, yanking the covers until they came up free. David hissed at the air that hit his skin but was quickly rewarded when Patrick slipped in behind him, arms coming around David’s chest and his head resting right in between of his shoulder blades. He hasn’t been the little spoon since Patrick fell ill and he’s maybe missed this more than sex. David shifted deeper into Patrick’s arms, wiggling backwards and was rewarded with a tightening of arms around him.

“You did a really good job, David,” Patrick whispered, pressing a kiss between David’s shoulder blades. “Taking care of me. You’ve always done a good job of taking care of me.”

“Most people would say you take care of me,” David whispered back, his throat tight. 

David wasn’t sure if he would have managed the level of success with the store if it wasn’t for Patrick and his grants and business sense and his ability to understand tax law without reading it fifteen times. He wasn’t sure what he would do without Patrick and his ability to anticipate David’s needs before his own and to manage things so effortlessly, even if he had no sense of color schemes and orderly flow of merchandise. 

“Nope,” Patrick answered, “From that first kiss, you started taking care of me. I’ve never met anyone as good at taking care of people as you.”

David felt tears prick his eyes and pulled Patrick’s arms tighter around himself. He burrowed into the covers and Patrick and the world they’d created together. In three weeks, they were going to stand up and tell everyone else what David already knew: they were going to spend the rest of their lives taking care of each other. “Just don’t scare me like that again, okay.”

“I’ll try not to,” Patrick whispered, his voice thick with sleep, pressing another kiss along David’s spine.

David murmured a soft, “Good. See that you don’t,” as his eyes fluttered closed, safe in Patrick’s arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed. You can also find me on tumblr under the same handle.


End file.
